Idiot Beloved
by JaganshiKenshin
Summary: What is the mystery of the ancient, terrifying power that stalks Hiei? Can he defeat it? Fire and light are woven irretrievably together: one can save, the other destroy.
1. Idiot Beloved, Chapter 1: Temple Bells

Disclaimer/Intro: Idiot Beloved

by

Kenshin

Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the Yuu Yuu Hakusho characters

(they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not

make any money from said characters. Don't sue.

What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters

in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be

met with the katana, or worse.

The events in Idiot Beloved take place shortly after the Dark Tournament.

What's it About: Hiei makes a single, fateful decision---and his

life will never be the same.

This novel deals with adult themes: notably the R-word

(Responsibility), the D-word (Duty), and lastly, the S-word

(Sacrifice).

Rated Mature for language and intense sexual situations.

Idiot Beloved Ch 1: The Sound of Temple Bells

by

Kenshin

"Steal the bells," Koenma had ordered. ("Recover" was how he'd

put it).

Hiei had envisioned one of those little jangling strings he could

lift with one finger, not these massive cast-iron sentinels.

He looked around. White Serpent Shrine sat on an acre of

cultivated Arizona land. To the north and south was nothing but

stark desert wilderness, dotted with the odd boulder or water

tower. Swaths of tended gravel glowed white under the gray sky

that told of an approaching storm. To either side of the

flagstone walkway leading to the temple entrance stood the bell

towers.

Hiei was strong, but this was idiotic. Each bell was as large as

he, and set inside an enormous wood and brick housing. The White

Serpent Shrine itself was all but hidden behind them.

Kneeling on the gravel path, Hiei allowed his fingers to brush

the communication device in his left pocket. He could call for

backup. He could call Botan or some other ferry girl for a ride

home.

And then what? Hiei thought; how much longer will you have to

perform as Koenma's pet?

Back to the bells. The clapperless monstrosities came

equipped with long, heavy sticks to strike a sound; he had seen

such bells before. Experimentally, he tried one, listening for

something out of the ordinary.

No. Just a bell, gonging.

Then, on hands and knees, Hiei examined each bell tower in turn.

They were virtually identical, smelling unpleasantly of cast

iron, and with no detectible sutras, powers, or ki.

That didn't necessarily mean anything. Sometimes the most

powerful things were the most cleverly guarded.

With a fluid motion he rose, took both hands from his pockets,

and laid them on one bell.

There was no sense of power, yet he detected a faint signature

about the temple itself, as if something was hidden inside,

something that might be dangerous. It came and went like fog.

Overlaid atop that echo he sensed another, fainter stamp of

power, that of something recently removed.

Weird, Hiei thought: Should have brought Kurama after all. But

even the two of them might not be able to transport these iron

monsters.

Ch. He was here. The kitsune was not. It was good to be alone

in a foreign land.

Stretching, he tested the air. There was no scent of youkai.

Arizona had its demons, of course, but they weren't anywhere

nearby at the moment. His own crossing had been uneventful.

The air itself was as alien as the landscape, dry enough to sear

his lungs, blazing with unfamiliar botanicals. Hardly a decent

tree for a perch; perhaps he would just sit on the low roof of

the temple to study his alternatives. In the fifteen minutes or

so that he'd been casing the land, not a single vehicle or person

had passed.

Excellent.

He risked a brief go-around with the Jagan. And immediately,

something laid hold of him, and saw him.

He crashed to his knees, unable to move. He could scarcely

breathe. This thing regarding him from a distance was old, and

immensely powerful, and struck at his core with a sense of

freezing, of plundering, of promising a long, painful death for

him and enjoying every minute of it.

Just as suddenly, it was gone.

Gasping, he slammed the Jagan shut, secured its ward, then

scrambled to his feet, flicked gravel dust from his sleeve and

fled the carefully-raked path for the hardscrabble ground.

Something strong enough to frighten him was here. Strong enough

to frighten Hiei, Jagan master, the millenium's only master of

the Black Dragon. Hiei of the sword and flame, who had defeated

Zeru and Bui and countless others. This thing knew where he was,

and yet had not revealed its own location.

Footsteps crunched lightly behind him. A female voice called:

"Hiei!"

He spun, ready for battle.

0-0-0-0-

Two boys and one part-boy sat in a small coffee shop in Tokyo.

One of the boys was tall and powerfully built, his orange hair

combed back in a towering marshmallow pompadour. The other was

more compact, his yakuza-styled hair dark. The third, not-quite-

human, tested the air for hints of danger, and possibly also for

any amusement, his leaf-green eyes quietly watchful.

The clash of tableware and the chatter of customers provided

ample cover for their discussion.

The dark-haired boy yawned and extended his arms overhead in a

ligament-popping stretch. "Heard from Hiei yet?"

Kurama shook his head, long crimson hair fanning forward. "He

only just left, Yuusuke. Relax."

"He should've taken us with him. I've been itching for another

fight."

"There won't be one." Kurama swirled his teacup, taking a moment

to appreciate its jasmine scent that rose in a veil of steam.

"He said it was a simple grab-and-go assignment." He looked up

at the two boys and smiled. "Hiei didn't elaborate, but I think

what he really wanted was to get away from us."

"Can't imagine why." Yuusuke was ogling girls, but not very

seriously; girls were ogling Kurama, very seriously, and Kuwabara

was nervously drumming on the tabletop.

Yuusuke aimed an ineffective swat his way. "Hey, cut it out.

Your rhythm sucks."

Kuwabara grunted, then stilled his fingers. He lifted his head

and shook it, eyeing the other two. "Guys, I dunno. I got a

funny feeling about this one."

Yuusuke leaned forward in his seat, a dangerous and happy glitter

lighting his eyes. "Bad funny or funny funny?"

"Hmmm... neither." Kuwabara took a deep breath and let it out

slowly. "Kinda squishy funny."

"That's helpful," snorted Yuusuke.

Narrowing his eyes, Kurama pushed the tea away untasted.

0-0-0-0-

Hiei relaxed the slightest bit, remaining wary nonetheless. This

female was not the source of the terrifying cold power that had

found him, but---

She was no one familiar: a miko, clad in the traditional chihaya

of scarlet hakama and white kimono shirt. Skimming the ground,

she closed the space between them at a rapid clip.

Well. If this priestess wanted a fight---

She stopped, well within his reach, but with nothing in her

stance to indicate challenge.

"Hiei?" she repeated, pronouncing the name to perfection. It was

a beautiful voice, a genuine achievement, similar to Kurama's,

but lacking his breathy undertone. "Or is it Flying Shadow?" she

continued. "But no, the furigana make it 'Hiei.' I can't really

read the rest. Anyway, you dropped this."

What the---?

She held out a small white card. That stupid thing? Urameshi

had scribbled it as a joke: My name is Hiei. If found, please

return to Makai.

"Keep it," he said.

Shrugging, she thrust the card into a fold of the voluminous

trousers.

She was little---Yukina-little, with gumdrop-gray eyes that

studied him a bit too directly. Her hair was the true fire

color, waving up and back from a wide, intelligent forehead. She

was nineteen, perhaps twenty---or even a bit older than the

moron's sister, Shizuru? With ningen females it was difficult

for him to judge.

To his amusement, she bowed. "Hiei-san, Shayla Kidd namae wa."

He had a little trouble making the sounds of her name come out

right.

"I heard the bell. You're here to see the temple?" She flicked

him a sideways grin. "I'm not a miko, but I play one on TV."

Whatever that meant. It sounded like something Urameshi would

say.

A rumble of thunder stirred. He glanced up. "Daijoubu. Storm's

far away."

She shook her head. "It's closer than you think." With an

unreadable glance, she turned and walked toward the temple.

Knock her out, he thought; take the bells. "You speak Japanese."

"Iie, iie, sukoshi. I know about ten words."

"But your accent's good."

"Just showing off. I have a quick ear."

"You read the kanji and kana. Even native speakers sometimes

have trouble."

"Same ten words." Opening the temple door, she stood aside to

let him in.

The temple was cool and dark, very much like Genkai's

headquarters, but smaller. He paused in the genkan to slip out

of his boots, but the miko shook her head. "Don't bother. And

don't bother being shocked either."

"But such an ancient---"

"Nothing ancient here except the bells."

He allowed his surprise to show; to do otherwise would have

seemed suspicious. As she gave him the tour he studied the

temple layout, while assessing his chances of ripping out each

bell by main force.

"You're only about the tenth visitor this year," she was saying,

leading him to an alcove with a low table set in its middle.

"Usually, it's someone who wants directions to the airport, and

then asks to use the bathroom."

"So few?" An isolated temple. No traffic worth mentioning.

Advantage, Hiei.

"Amazing, isn't it? You'd think a hot spot like this would be

mobbed." She bade him sit at the low table and dashed off.

A glance was all it took to see that she was right; this temple

was all too new. Was that why the brat sent him for the bells?

An ancient magical artifact in the wrong context could wreak

havoc.

The miko returned bearing a red laquer tray and two square white

plates.

"Out of tea," she apologized, kneeling to set out the plates,

which contained fanned-out slices of orange, thin enough to let

the white of the place show through. "The nearest place to buy

supplies is about forty-five minutes away and I'm getting to

dislike going there."

"That's your bokken." He nodded toward the wall at the practice

sword hanging there.

"Yup." She arranged the tray and plates and some folded napkins.

Enough. The sword was just wood, and she didn't move like a

swordsman. She moved like---

What did it matter? She was no threat. His own katana lay

secure at his back, and the knife in his boot, and other things

besides. "Is it your sensei who runs this temple?"

"Iie." She slid one of the plates toward him, and steepled her

hands. "Itadaki masu!"

He echoed her words, if not her enthusiasm, and began to eat the

orange, skin and all. It was a good one. But he noticed the

quick dart of her glance, noticed how she only ate the pulp, and

he put his plate down on the table. "I'm being impolite."

She gave a snort that would have done him credit. "This is

America. It's not rude unless you stab me."

He blinked.

Half the orange remained on her plate. She angled it toward him.

He ate it without the skin; it barely tasted like an orange.

"This temple. If your sensei doesn't run it, then who?"

"I don't know."

He waited while she dabbed her hands with the napkin and crumpled

it back onto her plate.

"Some wealthy recluse decided to build him a Shinto shrine right

here in the Arizona desert, and stick us in it."

"Us?"

"Ronni. The other fake miko."

Ronni. He wasn't even going to attempt that name. "And she

is---"

"My oldest, and some would say strangest, friend. She's the one

who got me the job."

"And where is she now?" A natural enough question.

"Up north, having a snit over her latest ex-creepazoid."

She's talking in code, Hiei thought, irritated that the simple

smash-and-grab mission was becoming more complicated by the

minute.

But this little not-miko was alone. That was the important fact.

Her sensei didn't live here, either; there was no male ningen

scent about the place. And if the shrine was built as a rich

man's playtoy, that would explain how it managed to survive with

no visitors. All he had to do was handle the girl, and get the

bells.

She picked up the last orange slice and let it drop back to the

plate. "These come from the tree out back. But you can get sick

of oranges if you have nothing else."

"Resupply."

"Told you. I don't like driving to town any more."

"Why?"

"Porous borders."

Porous? That got his attention, though he didn't so much as

flinch. Kurama would have laughed at him.

He got to his feet. "Show me."

0-0-0-0-

Many miles to the north, in a modern concrete and glass structure

that thrust agressively over a cliff, a creature with the outward

appearance of a man sat talking to a miko.

The braided hair that reached to his tailbone was white. His

skin was white. His eyes, when not hidden behind black

sunglasses, were white, the pupils contracting to verical slits.

The only other thing about him that was not white was his trim

black suit.

"It's done," he said to her. "Everything can begin."

"Cool." The miko looked around. "This place is, like, I mean, a

spa or something."

"It's nothing like a spa, but have your little fantasies. You

won't remember a word of this anyway. Now, tell me more about

the other one."

Inside the house, it began to snow.

-30-


	2. IB Ch 2: Borderline

Disclaimer/Intro: Idiot Beloved  
by  
Kenshin

Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the Yuu Yuu Hakusho characters  
(they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not  
make any money from said characters. Don't sue.

What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters  
in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be  
met with the katana, or worse.

The events in Idiot Beloved take place shortly after the Dark  
Tournament.

What's it About: Hiei makes a single, fateful decision---and his  
life will never be the same.

This novel deals with adult themes: notably the R-word

(Responsibility), the D-word (Duty), and lastly, the S-word  
(Sacrifice).

Rated Mature for language and intense sexual situations.

Idiot Beloved Ch 2: Borderline: "Your Opponent Is Me!"

He made her feel stupid. Romance-novel stupid. Creep-magnet  
Ronni stupid.

But Shayla Kidd kept her hands on the wheel, and the ancient,  
roofless Jeep on the road. This man didn't give a rat's ass  
about the temple. Why was he here?

His hair stood up like a bristlecone pine, and must have needed  
an extraordinary amount of product to hold it. Maybe that was  
the origin of his scent: blackberries in burnt sugar, evergreens  
waving in a night breeze. And that white starburst on the  
forelock, the pinnacle of the hair colorist's art.

Well. Aren't we the vain little trend monkey, she thought.

But there was something in Hiei's bearing that didn't mesh with  
vain. He carried himself like a prince who would be a tough  
customer in a fight. Economical of word and movement. Heavy-

duty martial arts training, she guessed.

She was good at quick reads; always had been. It had saved her  
on more than one dangerous occasion with the thugs in town. His  
blink rate said he wasn't lying. She tried to read his age---it  
was difficult sometimes with Asians. Forget the smooth,  
impassive face. Look at the neck and hands. Mid-twenties?  
Early thirties? Something was off. Leave that puzzle till  
later.

And if beauty could be considered an asset, this was a wealthy  
young man.

Stop that this instant! she scolded herself.

The air was flint-thick with the oncoming storm. The stark  
landscape whipped past, fusing to a dun-colored blur.

"You're a border agent, aren't you?" she said.

He gave her a sidelong glance. "A what?" His voice was a  
surprise: a low, throaty purr, dangerous.

"Ehh..." She ransacked her pitiful Japanese for the right words.  
"Genkai..."

Raised eyebrows and a soft grunt. Could her question have  
startled him? That meant undercover. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Genkai no senshi... no, that's 'soldier of the boundary.' Not  
quite the term I wanted."

"H'n. I'm tourist."

Yeah, she thought, like I'm a miko.

But by now she had his cadence: the deep, even breathing, the  
occasional speech particle drops, and she could mirror him. She  
tried one of his grunts, to see whether he noticed. He stared at  
the road ahead, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"You learned Nihongo from class?"

She shook her head. "Books. Tapes. Cartoons. Little to do out  
here. Keeps my mind off border."

A distant roll of thunder. He leaned back in the passenger seat,  
and cranked his head around to face her. His expression was like  
stone. "If you are doing this on purpose, you're very good. If  
not, urusai."

"Shut up yourself." Way to go, fake miko! Insulting a stranger  
who might possibly be dangerous.

Except that this one didn't give off the same creepy aura she  
felt from Ronni's usual assortment of drive-by suitors.

Note to self: she thought; just because he's not a creep does't  
mean he's tame.

He gave a near-imperceptible head shake. "H'n."

"I'll take that as a laugh."

"Eyes on road," he advised.

So, she thought, heavy undercover. That black coat, the white  
scarf---too much clothing for this weather. Which means he's  
packing. And those slender little hands---ten to one he's got  
every kind of callus on them and can break you in half without  
even trying.

He was difficult to read, but not impossible. The way he kept  
stealing glances at the dashboard, at what she did with her  
steering, clutching and shifting. Either he'd never seen a Jeep  
this old (and who had?) or there was something about the car that  
aroused his suspicion. Did he think she was a drug runner,  
hiding her loot somewhere in the vehicle?

She had never been a druggie, and Ronni had been clean for years.  
So what was he after? The mysterious owner of White Serpent  
Shrine? But she had never even seen that one.

Whenever she caught his gaze he did not look away or shift in his  
seat or smile. So different from the other Japanese she'd met:  
Peter, for example, owner of the Kouhaku restaurant in Palo Alto,  
who laughed almost too much. This person seemed dark, brooding,  
Russian. And he knew she knew.

Her target loomed to the south. She pulled to the side of the  
road, but stopped well away from the spot, not wanting to  
approach further.

"That's it," she said, turning off the motor. She unlatched her  
seat belt, got up, pointed. "See that line in the gully about a  
mile south? Looks like a wash of rocks. It's not."

He hopped out of his own seat to stand on the windshield,  
perfectly still. Even with all her training she could not have  
matched such a feat of balance.

"Ch." A breeze found him, lifting the heavy black coat, showing  
a flash of scarlet lining somewhat lighter than his eyes.  
"Backpacks. Boxes. Cloth. Why?"

Holy cow. He can see all that detail from here? "Abandoned by  
people illegally crossing the border. Women's garments, removed  
by force---a lot of rape here. Boxes, bottles, needles, other  
flotsam of drug use."

"Who does this?"

"Some are looking for jobs. Too many of late are disease-ridden  
thugs and drug runners. Which is why I no longer care to drive  
into town alone."

"But--ningen. Just ningen?"

"Of course people. What else would they be?"

"H'n." He dropped back into the seat. "Have they discovered the  
temple?"

She sat, clipping herself back into the seat belt. "Not yet, but  
it's only a matter of time."

Thunder rolled. She glanced overhead. The sky appeared leaden,  
and the smell of ozone stung her nostrils. "No time for that  
trip into town now. When the storm hits, the road could be  
washed out in an instant."

He nodded as if he knew what she meant. They didn't have Arizona  
weather or terrain in Japan, she thought. How does he know?

"Iko!" She started the Jeep. He again refused to fasten his seat  
belt. She made a three-point turn to head back north.

"At least you have orange tree," he said.

She stifled a laugh and hit the gas, hard. Watching him under  
lidded eyes, she again caught him tracking the movements of her  
hands, her feet, and what she did to shift gears.

Damn. The Jeep was hard enough to drive without the added burden  
of her billowing miko drag. Maybe she should have taken a minute  
to change into normal clothes.

Lightning licked the ground to her right.

And because of this, and because of her garb, and because she  
kept stealing glances at him, she took a split-second too long to  
respond when a massive body leapt out from the left, charging the  
car.

"Abunai!" The border agent yanked at the wheel, and she cut hard  
right, but too late.

Slam the brakes. Tires screeched. Couldn't swerve. Fishtailing  
on sand.

Her fleeting thought: Hiei's not wearing a seat belt.

Impact.

Breath slammed from her lungs. A stab of panic. Tumbling, then  
wrapped in darkness. Blind. Whirling.

A bone-jarring thump, and she landed. His voice, in her ear:  
"Daijoubu?"

The darkness lifted. She blinked, looked around. It took her a  
few seconds to get her bearings.

They were crouched atop a ten-foot boulder. The border agent  
knelt close at her side, one hand on her back, steadying her. He

was glaring at the spot where they'd left the road.

She followed his stare. The Jeep lay overturned in a sandy  
ditch. How had they reached the top of this rock? If they had  
been thrown clear, they would have landed close to the Jeep.  
And she had been wearing her seat belt.

"All right?" This time his voice had a snap to it. And he  
turned the stare upon her.

"H-hai," she said, forcing herself to concentrate. "No steam  
coming from the Jeep. Good sign." Maybe not; even with the two  
of them together, they could not possibly get it back up on its  
wheels. "How did we---"

"That thing hit us." He jerked his head. "Just behind Jeep."  
She followed his gaze. What she saw sent an involuntary shudder  
throughout her body.

The only reason she hadn't noticed it before was its dun-colored  
fur, short and bristly, a perfect camouflage for the desert  
backdrop. But now that the border agent had pointed it out---  
It looked like a cross between a kangaroo and a corpse. It had  
powerful back legs and dangerous claws. Its face was a  
gargoyle's, part human, part bat, and it snarled in a way that  
made her throat close in on itself.

"How's it still alive? We hit it with enough force to roll the  
Jeep. How'd we get up here?"

"Saa!" Eyes on the monster, leaning closer still, Hiei spoke into  
her ear. "What can you tell me of this creature?"

She frowned. It looked familiar, but not something she had ever  
seen in real life. It looked like...

"I--I'm not sure. Might be what's known as El Chupacabra."

He had trouble repeating the name. "And?" They were  
shoulder-to-shoulder now; the border agent's body heat struck at  
her through their clothing.

"They're said to kill and eat cattle. But I thought they were a  
myth, like UFOs."

"Ch!" He straightened. Lightning clawed in the flat gray  
distance. She rose, risked a glance up into his eyes.

They were utterly ablaze with wicked glee.

He pressed a hand to her shoulder, and she thumped back to the  
boulder's surface. "Stay down," he instructed. With the sound  
of a herald unfurling, he flung off his coat; it puddled to her  
knees in a pine-scented drape of black and scarlet. His  
sleeveless white shirt played in the wind like silk. "America,"  
he said. "So, English!"

With a barely-perceptible bunching of muscles, he vaulted from  
the rock to land dangerously close to the monster. She gasped.

No one, no one jumps 20 feet out and ten down and sticks the  
dismount. Okay, border agent, she thought, your cover's blown.  
Do I get to live, or is this one of these  
if-I-tell-you-I-have-to-kill-you deals?

Hiei had a katana strapped to his back. She thought, a bit  
giddily, a sword---that's what he's packing?

El Chupacabra was taller than the border agent by at least a foot  
and must have been twice, three times his weight; Hiei seemed not  
to care about the difference.

"Who sent you?" He was facing away from her; it was the wind  
that carried back his soft words.

El Chupacabra hissed. She hadn't really expected it to banter  
with him.

He crouched. With razor precision, he whipped the katana from  
its saya, sliced the air to ribbons, and advanced.

"Speak or die."

She sat up, craning her neck. El Chupacabra circled, growling,  
shaking its ugly head, scratching the dirt with powerful back  
claws.

But it wasn't really looking at him. It was looking at her, its  
nasty little eyes zooming in to lock gazes with her. Its lips  
drew back, revealing the dripping, jagged teeth.

"Animal," Hiei said, smacking the katana back in its saya.  
"You're not worth bloodying this." He walked forward, hands at  
his side, relaxed.

Is he crazy? Alarmed, she shot upright, drew breath to shout a  
warning.

El Chupacabra attacked.

But not Hiei. Her.

It flew through the air, straight at her, driven by those  
powerful hind legs. She flattened herself to the rock. Its  
acrid stench stung her nostrils. It was overhead; its parody of  
a human face grinned at down at her.

She didn't have time to scream. A flying shadow flickered in the  
air above it. Beast and shadow twisted against the sky and sped  
past with the sound of wrenching ligaments. She spun around to  
follow its trajectory. It landed, whump, on the other side of  
the boulder, some twenty feet distant, and struggled to its feet.

And now Hiei was standing between the monster and the boulder.  
How on earth---

"Your opponent is me!" he snarled, and all the blood in her body  
shot to her toes. She shivered. How did El Chupacabra not die  
of terror then and there?

Instead it hissed, gathered itself for another attack, and  
hurtled over Hiei's head.

Without even seeming to track it, Hiei made a vertical leap,  
plucked it from the air and flung it away. It slammed to the  
ground in a sickening crunch of bone, rolled end over end, and  
lay still, its head twisted at an impossible angle.

She breathed again.

He turned. From twenty feet away, he flicked up beside her. "I  
told you, stay down." The black coat materialized around him.

"You can teleport," she said accusingly.

"H'n." In a blur, he teleported back to the Jeep, inspected it  
briefly, and righted it. With one hand.

He wasn't even breathing hard. He called up to her, "Will this  
vehicle still go?"

Day-umn! Here she was stuck up on this rock. And she hated  
heights. "Only one way to find out." Inching to the edge of the  
boulder, she glanced fearfully down, tried to find a handhold to  
climb back to the ground.

She winced. "Ow."

His head snapped up. "What is it?"

"I might need help." She glanced at her white kimono top. The  
left sleeve was shredded; dots of blood on her bare flesh made  
her feel queasy. "My arm. Must have hurt it in the crash after  
all."

Instantly he was beside her on the boulder, lifting her arm,  
peering at her sleeve. She sipped in a soft breath. "Careful.  
That hurt."

The air thickened, then attenuated. Hiei was no longer beside  
her; he was crouched over the fallen monster---

---a black blur flew at her. Thump to her ribs, bringing more  
pain to her injured arm. She shut her eyes, curled in on  
herself, instinctive protection.

Scent and touch informed her that she was pressed against his  
coat, with the air speeding past. One of his arms under her  
back, the other under her thighs. Didn't make sense. What was  
he doing?

She pried her eyes open, glanced past one black shoulder; the  
ground was moving in a blur, too far below to be real. She shut  
her eyes again.

The sensation of movement made her dizzy; the pain in her arm  
grew from a dull ache to a deep burning. It was cold, too cold.  
Difficult to think. Impossible to talk, but...

"Keep still," he warned. "We're going back to the temple."

"Jeep---" she managed to gasp.

"This is faster. Besides, I can't drive."

The desert was moving; it was they who were standing still, while  
the rustle of a tree, the scrape of a boulder brushed past them,  
flick, flick, flick, point to point to point.

He blew his cover, she thought. Will I be allowed to live?

-30-

(To be continued)

PS: I understand there are still a couple of formatting problems. Working on it! Oo

* * *

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	3. Idiot Beloved Ch 3: Death's Gate

Yes, there are still minor formatting problems. I'm working on them. 

As Hiei's mission continues, will he be facing manslaughter charges---or something worse?

Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the Yuu Yuu Hakusho characters  
(they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not  
make any money from said characters. Don't sue.

What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters  
in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be  
met with the katana, or worse.

The events in Idiot Beloved take place shortly after the Dark  
Tournament.

What's it About: Hiei makes a single, fateful decision---and his  
life will never be the same.

This novel deals with adult themes: notably the R-word

(Responsibility), the D-word (Duty), and lastly, the S-word  
(Sacrifice).

Rated Mature for language and intense sexual situations.

Idiot Beloved Ch 3: Death's Gate  
by  
Kenshin

She was already stiffening in his arms. He burst through the  
temple doors, skated to the corner of the room, dumped her on her  
back.

On the way there Hiei had noted the girl's labored breathing, her  
shivering, the pindot pupils. Before Hiei had left on this  
mission, Kurama had explained about rattlesnakes and pressed upon  
Hiei packets of medicines. Hiei had raised an eyebrow. "You  
don't believe I'm quick enough to avoid a snake?"

The creature who had tried to kill the girl was not a  
rattlesnake, but---

In the cool dark her pupils were still pindots. Her labored  
breathing rasped in his ears. Not good.

He'd seen the effects of such toxins in Makai. Nerve agents,  
similar enough to snake venom. Meant to work quickly, to  
paralyze a victim from the wound to the body's core, eventually  
stopping the signals that allowed autonomous breathing. And this  
wound was far too close to her heart.

There was precious little Hiei could do for her on his own. As  
was the case with ningen blood types, demonic ki had both  
universal donors---Yukina was one such---and universal  
recipients. Then there were wild cards like himself. His own ki  
was far too dangerous to risk feeding to a human female,  
especially one at death's gate.

She fumbled for his arm. "No parents..." she slurred. "Aunt...  
two uncles... please ... inform ..."

"Baka," he said. "No one's dying."

All right, Kurama. Time to see whether your nostrums work. He  
flung off his mantle, and, straddling her hips, went to work.  
With his left hand he ripped her free of the billowing kimono  
shirt; with his right he dug in his pocket for the paper twists  
Kurama had given him, thankful he'd only dropped Urameshi's  
stupid card and not these.

Her wound didn't seem like much to the naked eye; a long bleeding  
scratch that spanned from shoulder to elbow on the outside of the

arm. But---

Back at the crash site he had noted the creature's claws, hollow  
like the fangs of a serpent. Had seen a drop of clear, acrid-  
smelling toxin at each tip, turning rosy with her blood.

"You've been poisoned," he said, palming the first paper, "Now.  
Four steps, each worse than the last."

She tried turning her head to look at the wound.

"No. Look at me. Only me."

With difficulty, she straightened to meet his eyes. Her pupils  
were still pindots; in this low light they should have been  
saucers. The fire-color hair was dark with sweat; a sheen of  
damp covered her skin. He could not hear her breathe. The toxin  
was working too fast.

"Step one." He took her wrist, straightening the injured arm.  
"Goes directly into wound. Stops toxin. Fifteen seconds. It  
will hurt. If you need to, grab me. You can't damage me."

He snicked open the first paper twist. In one swift arc he sifted  
the packet of crystals into the wound. Glittering golden  
antitoxin settled in a plumb line.

He was wrong. She could indeed damage him. Her scream nearly  
burst his eardrums.

Wincing, he snapped, "Woman! Count with me! Ichi! Ni! San!  
Yon!"

Her breathing was nothing more than a shallow gasp. "Can't...  
even... count... English..."

"Focus," he snarled.

She spat him a word he'd only heard Urameshi use. Good; she had  
some fight in her. "Look at me! Juusan! Juushi! Juugo!"

She gave a little gasp. Was her breathing a bit stronger or was  
he only seeing what he wanted to see?

"Step two. Also in wound. Draws out toxin." He snicked open  
the second twist, poured blue crystals into the long red slash.  
She struggled and cursed; he had to press a forearm against her  
sweat-slick chest to hold her still.

"Stay focused. It means your life." He watched with  
satisfaction as the clear venom bubbled up through the wound,  
filling the room with a brief, foul odor of sulfur. She coughed;  
he couldn't afford the luxury.

The bubbles turned yellow, then red. Good job, kitsune, he  
thought, as the bubbles went through a rainbow dance, ending in  
violet. Then the stench was gone, and her own blood began to  
flow, copper-scented, dyeing the tattered kimono to match her  
scarlet hakama.

"Done."

"That's... a lot of blood..." The voice was weak, but her own  
again. She glanced at the wound. "Should it bleed this much?"

Hiei let out a soft breath; this next procedure would be  
difficult for anyone to bear, even him. "Step three. Worst  
one." Pinning both her arms with one hand, he yanked the knife  
from his boot, raising his ki to heat it to red. "Don't look."

She disobeyed, turning her head to track the glowing knife.

"No!" She tried to arch away.

"Stop that. If I don't, you bleed to death. Kurama's nostrums  
are NOT going to waste." He fell forward, pressed his full weight  
against her, and, still using one hand, slapped the red-hot knife  
to the wound.

Another eardrum-bursting shriek. She almost bucked him off,  
earning a brief flash of admiration. But he held fast for the  
mercifully brief count, and did not ask that she count with him.

The smell of seared flesh made her gag. He let the knife clatter  
to the floor where it scorched a long black mark in the smooth  
wood. The woodsmoke scent almost covered up the stink of burnt  
flesh.

But the bleeding had stopped.

She went limp underneath him. She's fainted, he realized. "This  
won't do. Not yet." Sliding off her, he lifted her to a 45-  
degree angle. "Onna!" he snarled. Her eyes flicked open.

"Last step," he said. "By mouth. To ease pain, help purify  
blood."

He snicked open the final packet and sprinkled the full dose onto  
her tongue, then forced her mouth shut. She winced. "Swallow,"  
he commanded. The crystals would have a vile, bitter taste. She  
shuddered. He tightened his grip on her.

"If you spit it out I will strangle you."

"K'h!" She retched a bit, but she got it down and kept it down.  
Certain now she would not spit out the crystals, he eased her  
back on the floor and covered her with his mantle. Her eyes  
closed. Then he rolled the bloodied kimono into a ball---baka  
onna would probably not like seeing it. "Open eyes." She was  
still glowing sweat but her breathing was good, her eyes clear,  
and most importantly, black, with delicate silver rims, the  
pupils fully dilated.

He sat back and spared an instant to wipe his face. "Daijoubu?"

She nodded, still working her tongue against the taste of the  
medicine. One more step he hadn't mentioned, but---

Rising, he darted to the kitchen, pulled open the refrigerator,  
scowled. He grabbed a bottle and darted back. Her gaze tracked  
his movements. Again good.

He slid to his knees beside her and held out the bottle. "I  
can't read it well. Will this kill you?"

She tried for a laugh, brought out a faint squeak instead. "Just  
orange juice."

He raised her head again and helped her sip it. "Get the taste  
from your mouth."

She swallowed, closing her eyes again. Her chest expanded in a  
deep, shuddering sigh. "Now what? Wait for me to die?"

"Idiot. Worst is over." He got up again, padded to a cabinet,  
opened the sliding door and extracted a roll of bedding. She had  
said the desert nights got cold.

"Sleep if you can." He arranged her on the bedding. She seemed  
to weigh no more than a child. "I'll keep watch."

By then the knife was cool enough to sheath. He settled a little  
distance from her, listening to the sound of her breathing. It  
was strong and even.

Steal the bells now.

But she wouldn't wake for some time. And if the borders were so  
porous as to allow both illegal ningen and youkai to cross at  
will...

He wanted to chuck the stupid mission. But to admit failure?  
He, of the Dragon and Jagan? And the girl, helpless here. What  
had she called him? 'Senshi no genkai?' Trying for 'border  
agent.' Soldier of the boundary. He glanced at the sleeping  
miko. "You don't know how right you were."

He shut his own eyes for a moment. This business of tending  
people, it was harder than it looked. Should have taken Kurama  
after all. Maybe it would be wise to contact him now. You steal  
the bells, King of Thieves, he thought. You throw Chupa-whatsits  
around. See how you like it.

He reached into his pocket to pull out his communicator and call  
for backup.

The compact wasn't there.

He got up, glanced around the room. Had it fallen from his  
pocket when he'd removed the paper twists? No. Lost in the  
fight with the Chu-whatever-it-was?

Couldn't go to find out. Not with the girl still unconscious and  
questions unanswered and demons nearby.

He crossed to her bedding, picked up the wadded, bloodied kimono,  
and carried it to the bathroom. Not safe to leave it. Blood

scent would attract more of those half-animals. He raised just a  
bit of ki and burnt it, flushing the ashes.

There was a window in the bathroom, facing out back. South. If  
his compact had fallen during the brief battle it was probably  
somewhere near the Jeep. Should another of those creatures come  
to sniff out its companion's body, it would not know how to use  
the communicator. Would one of the ningen illegals? Probably  
not. And if one did, that would alert Koenma's staff and they  
would send someone for him.

If not, he was stuck here.

He thought: Wait long enough, someone will send for you. If  
only to see whether you made off with the bells for your own use.

Glancing at his own reflection in the mirror, he wondered why the  
girl had even let him get in the Jeep. The room was dark but  
his eyes still held a slant of crimson battle light. Was that  
why the Chupa-whatever-it-was went for the girl, and not him?  
Because she seemed easier prey?

He caught sight of the fine spattering of blood that marked the  
front of his shirt. Stupid woman wouldn't like seeing that  
either. He yanked off the shirt, rammed it in a pocket, then  
went back to check on her.

Still asleep, still helpless.

He went to the window on the north wall, glanced out. Nothing  
moving that his keen night vision could detect, and it was  
probably unsafe to risk the Jagan. Aunt and uncles, the girl had  
said. Perhaps after this attack, she could be persuaded to go  
back home. The temple would be free of human interference, and  
he could get the bells to Koenma.

And then what?

There was a soft rustle behind him. He turned.

She was standing, looking at him, swaying a little. The faint  
rumble of thunder barely registered on his hearing.

"You should lie back down."

She took an unsteady step toward him. Damn it, she would fall.  
He crossed the room in one jump. She put her hands on his  
shoulders. Her hands felt warm, dry. Was that a good sign?

His mantle had slipped off her. She slumped against him, head  
resting on his left shoulder. The room was cold. Her bare  
breasts pressed against him, raising a little jolt of  
electricity.

"Don't," he whispered.

Matings in Makai ranged from elaborate ceremonies lasting for  
days, to careless animal ruttings right out in the open, where  
any passerby could see. He had witnessed one or two of those,

much to his scorn.

But---

His mouth went dry. He shut his eyes, leaned into her hair.  
Underneath the sweat was a scent--melon? No. Something else.

The two of them, stealing glances at one another in the Jeep.  
Maybe...

His hands strayed to brush the skin of her back. Then he pushed  
her away.

"Cover yourself," he said.

She leaned into him again. Her hips grazed his in a way that  
shot a white flash of longing down his spine. Then she slid her  
hands to his shoulders and pushed off him.

She went liquid, performing a full backbend, a remarkable feat  
for someone who not an hour ago had been snatched from death's  
gate. "It's the drug," he said, pulling her upright. "You're  
not yourself."

And neither am I, he thought.

Her eyes met his. He swallowed, hard. "If this starts, I can't  
stop."

In the dim temple light her hair was the color of chrysanthemums.  
With the sense of plummeting off a cliff, he made one final  
effort.

"Go lie down."

Her lips curved into a faint smile. "Make me," she said.

-30-

(To be continued...)


	4. IB Ch 4: In The Name of the Father

Summary: Hiei's fateful decision brings further complications.

Continuing with the YYH novel Idiot Beloved updates. Again, please bear with my temporary formatting problems! Sankyu!

Idiot Beloved Ch 4: In The Name of the Father  
by  
Kenshin

Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the Yuu Yuu Hakusho characters  
(they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not  
make any money from said characters. Don't sue.

What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters  
in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be  
met with the katana, or worse.

The events in Idiot Beloved take place shortly after the Dark  
Tournament.

What's it About: Hiei makes a single, fateful decision---and his  
life will never be the same.

This novel deals with adult themes: notably the R-word  
(Responsibility), the D-word (Duty), and lastly, the S-word  
(Sacrifice).

Rated Mature for language and intense sexual situations.

Death's Gate:

Shayla Kidd awoke to the scent of blackberries and evergreen.  
He was awake already, studying her, propped on one elbow, the  
garnet eyes veiled.

"You're not wearing anything," she accused.

"Neither are you." He reached across her. "Give me your arm."

"Why not? You took a lot more than that last night."

"Took? You all but stuffed it down my---" He broke off,  
examining her injured arm. "Look at it," he said.

"I saw enough of that arm yesterday to last a lifetime."

"Do as I say, woman."

Timidly, she stole a glance. "What the---?" Nothing showed of  
the ugly, toxic wound but a faint silver line running shoulder to  
elbow, like a very old scar. And it ached when she flexed it,  
but no worse.

The rest of her ached in numerous ways both pleasant and  
unpleasant.

"Then... it really happened," she breathed, meaning the attack.

"H'n." He regarded her through lidded eyes, meaning---?

Oh, my.

"Neck hurts?" he asked. "Stiff?"

"Now that you mention it. Thank you so much."

"Normal. It will go away soon."

He caught her by the chin; she caught her breath. But he  
only tilted her head, studying her eyes not like a lover, but a  
doctor. "Good," he said, releasing her.

She looked at the floor. "Listen, I---"

"Enough." He shot to his feet and went to retrieve his clothing.

There was a little constriction in her chest; she didn't know  
whether it was an aftereffect of the venom, or the sight of him,  
moving in the sifted morning light.

She decided it was the latter; he was shockingly built, and  
diamond-hard.

He flicked into the loose black pants, earning from her a sigh of  
disappointment, and went padding off to the kitchen. She lay  
back, listening to his footsteps.

Soon enough Hiei returned, carrying the inevitable orange and a  
milk box. "This." He thrust the box at her face. "Poison?"

"Depends on your perspective." She tore the straw from its  
cellophane and poked it in, sipped. "I hate milk." She handed  
the box to him; he also sipped.

"Ch. Apparently, so do I."

"Liquid chalk." She watched him tear into the orange with  
powerful white teeth. Last night those teeth had been a  
hairsbreadth from her jugular.

"You're not quite human," she began.

He put the orange down.

"No one has eyes that color. And those fangs. I felt them last  
night when we--- But you're not a vampire. You were parading  
around in daylight. No human could move the way you did  
yesterday. At first I thought, ninja, but you made that knife  
glow red without a heat source. What are you?"

He gazed at her a long time. Then wiped orange from his chin,  
licked it off his arm. "I'm a demon."

For a moment she couldn't move a muscle. "Spell it."

"Baka. D-e-m-o-n."

"That's what I thought you said." She sat very still. Outside  
came the distant growl of a bus, and the faint yap of a coyote.

A demon, she thought. Why didn't you see it, given who your  
uncle is? No. You saw it. You just didn't want to admit it.

Quickly, she crossed herself. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph. You're  
telling me I've coupled with a minion of Satan?"

He held out half an orange to her. "Who's Satan?"

Far to the north, inside the square glass-and-steel box that  
thrust out over a cliff, two servants, somewhat human in form,  
escorted a beautiful young miko into the best room, the room  
where their master awaited.

Commanding that room was a pale man-shaped entity in a black  
suit. On his face was a pair of black sunglasses; all around him  
was a mantle of arctic air.

The two servants approached, their posture signalling both  
deference and fear. The miko signalled neither.

The man in the black suit nodded at his servants. They released  
their hold on the girl, then silently backed away.

The man's white face and hair seemed to float above the black  
suit. He slid a hand through his long white braid and extracted  
a single hair. Then he waved the miko over to him, and she sat  
in his lap.

"How are you this morning, my dear?"

"Tired," she whispered, leaning a head against the trim black  
shoulder.

"I know of something to fix that. How about it? Do you want to  
watch a bit of fun?"

The miko nodded slowly. In the pale early light, her face looked  
old.

Shayla Kidd gaped at the orange, still in the demon's hand, and  
at the liquid innocence of his eyes.

She began to laugh. Her laughter carried a knife-edge of  
hysteria, and she had to clamp down hard on it. "I suppose you  
don't know the story of Eve and the apple?"

"No. Eat the orange, woman. And give me the stupid milk." Hiei  
snatched up the milk box, took it in a gulp, crumpled the box,  
and sprang to his feet again. "Get dressed. You can't stay

here."

"Why not?"

"After what happened yesterday---" He caught her gaze and  
amended, "Yesterday afternoon, you need to ask?"

"Fine. And we walk through the desert, and get eaten by El  
Chupacabra's vengeful cousins."

"Not walk. I'm going for the Jeep."

"You said you couldn't drive, Sword Boy."

"I can't. But I watched you do it."

She hissed out a breath. "Kusoooo..."

"Who taught you words like that?"

"You should hear me in English."

"I did. Impressive. You said things not even Urameshi knows."

"Urameshi?"

"Urameshi, he's..." He snatched the rest of the orange from her  
hand and finished it. "Don't you ever eat?"

"Who's Kurama?"

"The one who saved you." He was licking his palm like a cat; she  
fully expected him to start cleaning his ears like a cat as well.

"Funny. Last night, I could swear it was you."

"He made the medicines," Hiei said, shouldering into the white  
shirt. "I just supplied knife-work."

"Trade secrets?"

"Demon medicine, made for ningen." He grabbed her hand and  
pulled her to her feet. She clutched his coat around her.

He held out a hand and looked at the coat. "I'll need that."

Now she could see the fine spray of bloodstains on the white  
shirt. She looked away. "You shredded all my clothes last  
night."

"Give it to me."

She shrugged out of it and stood, shivering. "Stupid woman," he  
said, wrapping her up again. "Go get your own clothes on."

"You really don't know who Satan is?"

"The wealthy one who built this temple?"

"God help me. Where's some Holy Water when you need it?"

"Pack clothes," he called.

She was good at packing, fast yet careful, storing everything in  
plastic zip bags. When she finished with the clothes and  
cosmetics she stuffed the lot into her light, roomy backpack.

She packed her Bible and bokken as well.

When she returned and handed Hiei the black-and-scarlet coat, he  
pointed to the kitchen.

"You have gun here." It was a statement, not a question. She  
nodded. "Use it on anyone who isn't me. I'll return with the  
Jeep." He was at the doorway, his back to her. He paused.  
"Daijoubu?"

"I'm okay. Remember to double-clutch."

A blur, and he was gone. She might have only imagined the wind  
in his wake.

Hiei stood on the boulder, regarding the battlefield below.  
In spite of last night's thunder, it hadn't materialized into any  
rain that would blur tracks or other evidence. He was lucky.

And the Jeep sat where he'd left it---owing less to luck than the  
sutra he'd slapped on it, an instant before he realized she'd  
been---

He stopped. No sense reliving that particular moment.

The sky was a sullen plum color with a hint of damp in the  
breeze. He flicked to the ground, examining for footsteps around  
the boulder in an ever-widening pattern of circles.

Just as he'd feared. There was the little communicator, in that  
stupid lilac color Botan favored, smashed to bits. No doubt it  
went sailing out of his mantle when he whirled free of it to  
fight the Chupa-whatever-it-was.

Repairing the compact was beyond his skill. He risked raising a  
bit of ki out in the open to burn it; better than leaving it for  
someone else to find. Then he walked to the spot where he'd  
tossed the demon's body. There wasn't much left. Just ordinary  
animal tracks leading away from the spot, and insects fighting  
over what might have been the last remaining bits of its flesh.

Crouched alone on the wooden floor of the temple, Shayla Kidd  
examined the long burn mark that was in the shape of a knife.  
Hiei must have dropped it after searing her. Now it looked like  
a pointing finger, accusing her of wild, unseemly behavior.

She slid her hand over the mark, and found it left a black smudge

on her palm.

A demon, she thought. Not just a border agent.

One day it would all hit her, everything that had happened in the  
past twenty-four hours. Until then, it was easier to hold  
herself at an angle.

Behind her the air thickened. The scent of evergreens stung her  
senses.

She looked up. Hiei stood over her.

"Suppose I had shot you?"

"The Jeep made some funny noises. I think it can still go." He  
held out a hand.

She got to her feet on her own. "Where are we going?"

"I'm not. You are."

She turned her face away from him to look at the cabinets. One  
of the doors was still half-open from where she had carelessly  
stuffed the bedding. She slid it closed.

"Last night you said, aunt and uncle," he continued. "Where?"

"Northern California." She knelt to perform a minute adjustment  
on the straps of her backpack.

"Too far. Where do you have that's closer?"

She forced herself to consider the question. "Ronni's parents.  
Ranch country. A bit north of here."

"Make the arrangements."

"Where---" She bit it back, and headed for the kitchen to use the  
phone. When his hand brushed her elbow she did not turn.

"Business to take care of," he called. "I'll come for you."

And there it was. Finished before it really started. No  
mirakuru romansu after all---nothing more to the encounter than a  
Japanese James Bond who happened to be a demon, enjoying the  
spoils of the game, then moving on to the next too-willing  
victim.

About twenty minutes later, she was well on her way, the Jeep  
churning north toward the Spencer cactus ranch. The wind that  
blew her hair back carried hints of damp, of salt, of flint.

She knew Hiei had no way of tracking her. It seemed foolish to  
give him the address of the ranch. Chalk it all up to bitter  
experience.

He was a shadow on her trail, flicking through the sparse trees,  
bounding behind rocks and dirt mounds, vaulting a Greyhound bus  
to cross the road unseen.

When he was certain that the sutra protecting the Jeep worked  
well enough, he turned his face into the wind and headed back for  
the White Serpent Shrine.  
-30-

(To be continued...)

Gomen ne! I know there are probs with formatting. To be fixed asap...


	5. IB Ch 5: My Three Oni

(All disclaimers to be found in Chaps. 1-4)

Idiot Beloved Ch. 5: My Three Oni  
by  
Kenshin

The enemy was closing in, all burning wings and snapping  
mandibles, intent on wholesale slaughter.

Surrounding him on this ritual battlefield was an overload of  
shouting people and flashing lights, but Yuusuke refused to be  
distracted. Scowling, he took careful aim. With a twitch of his  
forefinger, he sent out an invisible beam of white light,  
blasting the Iron Queen of Merciless Insects back to Makai.

Kurama had to admit the boy's concentration was impressive. At  
least as far as arcade games were concerned. "Yuusuke," he  
sighed, tapping on the console. "Are you listening?"

"Every word." Yuusuke snapped off another shot as one of the  
Queen's Minions of the Layered Dark came scuttling in from the  
side. "I haven't heard from Botan, you haven't heard from Hiei,  
no one's heard from Koenma, Mom's sleeping it off, Keiko's pissed  
at me, business as usual, tell me something I don't know."

"Oi, Kurama!" Kuwabara sat in the next booth over, practicing at  
some sort of vehicle racing game. "I'm just about done here.  
Wanna take a turn?"

Kurama shook his head. Why play when there was so little at  
stake? "I only hope that Hiei is having a lovely vacation. Like  
Koenma-sama."

Kuwabara let go of his joystick, and his car promptly rolled  
over and went up in flames. "You mean Koenma's still not back?"

Kurama watched as more of the Queen's Minions surrounded  
Yuusuke's character, attacking the little... fairy, was it? No,  
elf, he corrected. Yussuke scatter-shot eight of the Minions  
seemingly at once, ending the game. "Alas, Koenma-sama is not.  
A month's vacation is still thirty days by any reckoning."

Yussuke laughed, racking up his score. "Whatever. Everything's  
gonna work out just fine."

"I'm still not so sure about that, guys," growled Kuwabara.

"Hey, look." Yuusuke pointed a finger at Kuwabara. "You cracked  
up the car! Nice job."

"Shut up." Kuwabara rose, towering over the other boy. "What I  
mean is---"

"You got that squishy feeling again." Yuusuke certainly seemed  
to be in high spirits.

"Nah, that ain't it. I was at Genkai's yesterday. There was  
something watching the place."

"Probably a squirrel." Yuusuke punched the larger boy's shoulder.

"Uh-uh. This thing was white. And it was laughing."  
White? Laughing? Kurama's mouth went dry, and he had to sit  
down, quickly.

What had she called him, Hiei wondered, running lightly alongside  
the highway: Soldier of the boundary? She knew without knowing.  
What had revealed him?

He gave a snorting laugh: Everything.

He had taken his time returning from the ranch, pausing now and  
then to stand on the odd water tower or outcropping of rock. The  
landscape was watching him in some manner he couldn't define and  
heartily disliked.

Bounding off a dead tree, he vaulted to the top of an abandoned  
clay hut and crouched, testing the air for any sign of demons.

That Chupa-thing hadn't just stumbled into their path by  
accident. It was little more than an animal, but there could  
always be worse to come. Something about the temple and its  
bells was not quite right---a form of magnetism, a beacon, a  
gathering-point? Koenma had not cared to explain.

He rose. It might prove too great a risk to use the Jagan again,  
either to detect any power arrays below ground, or to find the  
next applicant to be sent to oblivion along with the Chupa-  
whatever-it-was.

And that---lone power---the ancient one who had sensed Hiei's  
presence the last time he'd used the Jagan. He would not want to  
encounter it again. Ever.

Take it step by step, he told himself. It would be nice to  
obtain something more to fuel his body than three quarters of an  
orange and most of that horrible white stuff she called milk.  
But he lacked the time to stop and kill a decent meal.

And there was work to do Picking out a line of objects suitable  
for rebounding---trees, abandoned vehicles, rocks too small to be  
named boulders---Hiei quickly reached the White Serpent Shrine.

Landing near the bells, he dipped into his pockets again for two  
of the less powerful sutras Koenma had provided him, and slapped  
one carelessly on each bell tower.

If he wanted to take the bells, the sutras wouldn't even slow him  
down. He doubted they'd deter a serious thief. But it was the  
best he could do at the moment while he considered his limited  
options.

The most attractive option would be to inform Koenma exactly  
where he could insert his precious temple bells.

Grabing another orange, Hiei perched on the roof. From here, he  
could see in all directions: wild sage-and-tumbleweed patchwork  
to the north and south; the tended gravel surrounding the temple,  
and the cultivated square of land surrounding that.  
He imagined that even with the Jagan warded, he might be able to  
see the ranch where she was.

And it only needed his normal eyesight to detect the trio of oni  
who were approaching from that porous borderline, slinking from  
bush to bush as if a few scrawny twigs could hide them.

Swallowing the last of the orange, carefully tucking the seeds  
into his cheek, Hiei stood to watch.

These oni looked much like the Japanese variety he was used to.  
Three times his size and probably four times his weight, but that  
didn't factor into anything. Their color was more suited to the  
local landscape, varying from a dull gray-green (the largest oni,  
the one with three horns) to a mostly greenish-brown, all similar  
in their bulky, awkward physiques and knuckle-dragging posture.  
Maybe this was a family outing.

The wind was blowing from the north. It must have been pouring  
his scent into their nostrils, and they didn't notice. Pathetic.

He waited until they had filed past the side of the temple and  
converged on the east bell tower.

Life was good.

With a flick of his muscles, he vaulted backward off the roof,  
executed a mid-air flip, then landed on the bell tower.

They still didn't notice him. He could fix that.

He spat a barrage of orange seeds at them, gratified to see the  
tiny projectiles pinging off each oni's head.

"Let me guess," he began. "Stragglers from the nosebleed seats  
at the Dark Tournament? I don't like to break it to you but the  
Tournament's over."

The oni responded with a flurry of grunts and shuffles, looking  
at one another in vague accusation. Hiei stood with arms folded,  
enjoying their startlement. "Up here," he prodded.

One of them, the largest, apparently deciphered the word "up,"  
and spotted him at last. It alerted its companions with a  
throaty bark, and the two lighter-colored ones dropped into  
defensive posture. Green Oni narrowed its eyes.

Hiei grinned, tapping the roof of the bell tower with one boot.  
"So you've come for these, have you?"

They gazed up at him with expressions ranging from irritation to  
dull surprise. The gray one scratched itself.

"This is your lucky day," Hiei informed them.  
Green Oni---probably the nominal leader---again grunted something  
Hiei took to be a question.

"How so, you ask? You're about to be sent to the afterlife by  
Jaganshi Hiei." He swirled out of his mantle---nothing in the  
pockets to lose this time---and leapt to land among them. They  
scattered, gravel flying.

Funny. This was about the spot where he had first seen the  
little not-a-miko, running toward him, calling his name and  
holding the stupid card penned by Urameshi.

"You remind me of Koenma's head lackey," he said to the trio of  
oni. "Except that one can read and write."

Little not-a-miko. Back then, wind had been in the wrong  
direction for him to pick up her scent. It was a distinctive  
one. Melon, but what kind? Golden, ripe, almost ready to burst  
its seeds, but with startling undertones of---

He dodged a clumsy sideswipe from Gray Oni. "You're not worth my  
blade," he informed it, enjoying its expression as it tried to  
work out what that meant.

Exactly like the homegrown variety: slow and stupid. This was  
going to be fun.

The little not-a-miko. The way her eyebrows winged up at the  
ends, as if she were perpetually about to let him have it. The  
way she pronounced his name. As if she'd been born in Japan.

With guttural snarls, Brown Oni and Gray Oni sprang forward to  
claw at him. He spun away from the attack like it was a dance.

"I have an idea," he said to the leader, the green one. "Suppose  
I get you to carry the bells back to Koenma. I'll give you an  
orange. What do you say?"

The Gray Oni was faster than the others. It rushed him, low to  
the ground. Hiei twitched out of the way. Its rough hide  
scraped against the underside of his bare arm.

"What, no takers? You'll never see another offer like this."

It was too bad she was not here. It would give him an  
opportunity to explain the many differences between varieties of  
demons. Him, and everyone else.

"Maybe if you would coordinate your attacks," Hiei advised Green  
Oni, "I might feel moved to take my hands from my pockets." He  
leaned his head away, slitting his eyes, catching the flickers of  
gray and brown to either side of him---or was it the green one,  
they were changing positions, it hardly mattered---at the same  
time trying to catalogue that elusive element to her scent.

Something struck him at the base of his spine, a thump and a long  
burning. It took a split second to realize that one of the oni  
had yanked his katana from its saya and used it to score him up  
the back.

"Temee." Hiei muttered, turning, turning, trying to keep all  
three in sight, but they were moving right along with him.  
"Which of you has it? Too much sword for the likes of you."

He had allowed them to surround him. Unforgiveable.  
"Come and get it, half-pint," said Green Oni, bringing the katana  
from behind his back, waving it around.

"Careful." Hiei bared his teeth. "Might cut yourself."

The other two rushed him left and right. Hayai! Such speed!

One hit him high, one low. He slammed to the ground under their  
combined weight. The breath whooshed from his lungs; the gash  
in his back split painfully open. Their teeth snapped; claws  
flailed, but they had left his limbs free.

Bracing with feet and hands, he rammed his hips up, knocking the  
gray oni aside, opening enough daylight to roll away from the  
other.

Hiei sprung back into a watchful crouch. They gave him no time.  
Gray and Brown charged again. His jump got him away, but Green  
swerved in to slash with the stolen katana, the strike glancing  
off his forearm. Blood spurted.

Twisting in mid-air, Hiei lashed out with one foot, catching the  
hilt of his sword, jerking it from Green Oni's grip.

The katana went spinning to land point-down in the dirt, ten feet  
away. Hiei tumbled end over end, came up on his knees positioned  
between his weapon and the oni.

"Give it back, Shorty." Green Oni sneered. "I wasn't done with  
it."

They fanned out again; Hiei shot to his feet, tracked the two  
flank movers with the tail of his eye and glared at Green Oni.

"I was going to kill you quickly," he said. "I've changed my  
mind." He spat a mouthful of dirt.

Hiei! She pronounced it to perfection...

He froze, the oni forgotten for a moment. This was no trick of  
the imagination. It was her voice. He was hearing it for real.

The three oni tightened their ring around him. "Time's up,  
runt," snarled the green one. They charged. Their stench mixed  
with the smells of dirt and blood.

He heard her again, her cry laced with fear and despair: Hiei!

He had thought to keep her safe at the ranch. But---  
What has that fool woman gotten herself into?

The oni were on him in an instant, opening new gashes in his  
skin.

"I don't have time for this!" Ignoring his wounds, Hiei spun,  
yanked the katana from hard-packed dirt. He vaulted over their  
heads, but one clawed hand shot out, caught his shirt, and  
dragged him under again.

-30-

(To be continued---hopefully with formatting problems solved!)


	6. IB Ch 6: The Running of the Bulls

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 6, The Running of the Bulls  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T

Summary: These bulls are not what they seem---and there are further surprises in store.

Note: This was a long chapter, which is why I didn't update two chaps at a shot, which is my usual 'style.'

Disclaimers found in Ch. 1-3. Go look there.

Idiot Beloved Ch 6: The Running of the Bulls  
by  
Kenshin

"Shayla."

The insistent note in Helen's voice called her to attention.  
Staring out the French doors, Shayla Kidd hadn't even heard.  
"Sorry, I'm daydreaming. What?"

"Shay, honey, come away from that breathtaking view of nothing  
and have some coffee with us."

"The Jackson bulls got out again." Three of the big, nasty  
Longhorns were still in view; she had counted more.

Joining her at the French doors, Helen shook her head. Tall and  
striking like her daughter Ronni, Helen took command of the  
situation. "I'll phone the ranch and tell them to stop making  
their fences out of papier mache. Robert won't be pleased. Last  
time they ruined my vegetable garden."

Kenny and Trace, Ronni's younger brothers, hovered around the  
expansive dining room table, eyeing a plate of Danish pastry.  
Shayla had played Battle Clash with the boys until they killed  
her off twice. She'd refused their pleas to continue.

She took a seat facing Helen and toyed listlessly with her mug of  
coffee.

Helen slid a Danish toward her. "Heard from Ronni?"

She nodded. "Phoned three days ago. Still off sulking."

"If she listened to you instead of running off with every two-bit  
heartbreaker that crossed her path..." Helen gave a long-  
suffering sigh.

Shayla didn't answer. She was one to talk now; miruku romansu  
my---

A crash jolted her out of her misery. "What was that?"  
Exchanging glances, Shayla and Helen got up and went to the  
window.

"Well, that about tears it." Helen peered into the yard. "One of  
those forsaken beasts just shattered the north wall of the cactus  
greenhouse."

Shay narrowed her eyes. The bull, an enormous specimen as black  
as licorice, still had its formidable horns stuck in the  
shattered greenhouse glass. "Have they ever done this before?"

"No," said Helen.

"Don't they usually just---?"

"Mill about like, well, cattle, until Jackson sends a team of  
cowboys to round them up? I don't think they meant to destroy my  
garden last time, but try telling that to the tomatoes."

The two boys joined them.

"Where's Ginger?" said Kenny. "Didn't you tie her up?"

"I thought you did," said Trace.

"Nuts," said Shay. "Ginger's out there?" The kids' little  
mixed-breed puppy didn't have the brains God gave string beans.

"I gotta get her!" Kenny flung open the doors but Helen pulled  
him back.

Shay tuned them out, counting the bulls. There were about ten of  
them. That was a lot. The usual invasion, according to Ronni,  
consisted of anywhere from two to five of the big, ill-tempered  
animals.

"Ginger!" Both boys were sniffling.

Poor scared puppy, she thought, alone, helpless. Her backpack  
was still in the living room. She made a dash for it, yanked out  
the bokken, and ran for the back doors.

"No, don't!" cried Helen.

"Stupid dog." Shay paused to tighten her shoelaces. "You know  
how those bulls can get. She'll think it's a game."

"But Shay---"

"I'm fast." Not as fast as that red-eyed demon, she thought, but  
let's hope fast enough. Taking a few deep breaths to oxygenate  
her blood, she ran from the house.

The bull caught in the greenhouse jerked its head up, freeing its  
wicked horns, scattering glass everywhere. Lean, powerful,  
thick-crested, it stared at her.

Tracking it, she inched away. It followed.

Helen's voice came from the window. "Shay, don't be foolish."  
I'll phone for help and---"

"Ginger's out there."

The other bulls were ranged inside the fenced yard. A couple of  
acres of arid, weed-dotted nothing, it provided little in the way  
of shelter or hiding places.

Where's a rodeo clown when you need one?

"Ginger," she called. The bull tailing her raised its horned  
head, flicked its ears, and trotted forward.

Pray for deliverance, and this is what you get.

Holding the bokken in a guarding position, she side-stepped  
toward the fence. The black bull, all 2000 pounds of it, matched  
her step for step. She ignored Helen's scolding.

Turning, she skimmed the ground. The bull's hoofbeats rang in  
her ears. She headed toward the open gate, caught the sword  
between her teeth (Ick! she thought), hit the ground hard,  
rebounded, and landed on the top of the fence, struggling for  
balance.

Crap! How does Hiei do this?

The charging bull missed, breezed past her into the pasture.

Straddling the fence, she removed the bokken from her teeth, spat  
a mouthful of wood-tasting nastiness, and slid the sword down  
into her waistband.

"Ginger... heeeere, Gingergingerginger..." All she knew about  
bulls is that they liked to chase down running objects and the  
color red made them mad. She was glad to be wearing her oldest  
gray sweats. Come on, you idiot dog, where are you?

What would Hiei have done?

Taking a deep breath, she strained her ears for the sound of the  
puppy's incessant yippings.

OK. Found it. At ten o'clock: a cluster of bulls, reddish and  
dappled white, ranged around the yard, their heads up, tails  
swishing. It didn't look like a threat posture to her. She slid  
off the fence, calling the puppy. "Heere, Gingergingerginger ...  
step away from that enormous black bull and come to ShayShay..."

The bulls looked to be even bigger than El Chupacabra, and twice  
as heavy. The black one still hovered far too close, snorting  
and pawing the ground. In front of it crouched the moronic dog,  
a ball of wiry russet fur, yapping and splaying her forefeet in a  
play-with-me gesture that Shayla was positive the bull would not  
understand.

The bokken in her waistband made it difficult to crouch. No  
wonder he had it strapped to his back.

Concentrate. Hiei's not here, not gonna be here, and you are.  
You are all that stands between that puppy and the bulls. The  
thought of those greenhouse-smashing horns hooking Ginger,  
tossing her skyward---

Inching forward, one eye on the bull, she made kissing noises in  
the puppy's direction.

With a pleased little yap, it bounded madly toward her. The  
bulls scattered grazing in the yard now lifted their heads and  
trotted toward her. In formation. Weird.

The black bull lowered its nose.

Don't they drop their heads just before they charge? I hate  
this, she thought, snatching up the puppy. "Who on earth keeps  
that many Texas Longhorn bulls? In Arizona?"

But it was hard to run with the bokken in her waistband and the  
puppy wriggling in her arms, licking her, throwing off her  
balance.

Behind her was the gap in the fence. Slowly, feeling with each  
footstep, she backed toward the gap.

Ginger licked her chin and whined.

The black bull trotted toward her. She could see the glitter of  
its eyes.

Okay, she thought, this is freaky. Bulls don't attack in groups.  
She wondered what Hiei would---

Stamping hard on the thought, she took another cautious step.

The black bull lowered its head and charged. Whirling, she  
hammered into an all-out run. Its hoofbeats rang in her ears.

She heard Helen scream. Tightening her grip on the puppy, she  
dodged toward the gap in the fence.

And caught her foot on a weed.

It sent her crashing down. She twisted as she landed and the  
fall knocked the breath from her but she kept the puppy in her  
grip.

The bull at her back was so close she could smell it.

Twining one hand through Ginger's collar, she wrenched to her  
feet and faced the bull. Too close. She wasn't going to---

Helen screamed again.

Head down, horns flashing, the bull leapt at her. She turned,  
ran.

A blunt impact hit her ribs, hard. She went sailing through the  
air.

With an arm tight around her waist.

"Baka na!" he snarled in her ear.

Hiei! She tried to look at him but his grip was too tight, then  
he touched down, leaned her up against the fence, and glared at  
her.

The sight of him made her far too disgracefully happy.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"Saving Ginger," she said primly. The puppy struggled to lick  
her chin.

"Ginger? Keh. I know what ginger smells like. This is not  
ginger."

"It's her name, you idiot."

Inside, Helen called to them again.

Hiei flicked a glance behind him. The black bull was lashing its  
tail and pawing the ground. Hiei's spectacular leap had carried  
them about twenty feet away from the animal, but the other bulls  
were closing in fast.

With a dismissive shrug, he rounded on her instead. Eyes  
blazing, he launched a stream of Japanese too lightning-fast for  
her to follow. Probably just as well. It didn't sound in the  
least complimentary, but every other snarl was either 'baka'or  
'kuso.'

"Whatever, Sword Boy. Just let me put her inside and I'll help  
you with these bulls."

"You? Help me?"

"I can hit them with my bokken. Or I can fall down again and  
distract them."

"I forbid it. Get in the house, woman. Take that stinking thing  
with you." And he went back to cursing her in Japanese.

"Who are you to order me around like---behind you!"

The black bull charged his exposed back. Ten feet, five, two.  
Without so much as a glance, Hiei reached around, caught it by  
one of its wicked horns, and flung it away. It landed with that  
same sickening crunch as El Chupacabra, its head twisted at a  
similar, impossible angle. "Answer my question, woman."

"Speak my language, red-eyes."

The other bulls stopped. Ginger wagged her tail.

"Wait. What is that?" She narrowed her eyes at the bull. It  
was very, very dead, its tongue lolling, head practically upside-  
down.

"What is---" Hiei finally turned to look at it. When he saw  
what she had pointed out he sprinted the short distance to the

bull's body and crouched there, watching.

She joined him.

There was an animal crawling out of the bull's mouth. No, not an  
animal. A gargoyle? A miniature man? Ugly as sin.

Hiei scooped it up and studied it. It was about the size of his  
hand, with pale, bulging eyes, leathery skin, and a set of its  
own miniature horns.

"Curiouser and curiouser," she murmured.

"So," he said. "A jaki. Explains a lot."

"Jaki?" In her arms Ginger whined and shivered.

"Little sort of demon that can take control of people sometimes.  
I didn't know it worked on animals."

She grunted. "America: just chock-full of surprises."

The jaki struggled in Hiei's grip. "Stop that," he warned. "If  
you tell me who sent you and why, I'll try to give you painless  
death."

The jaki buried its miniature fangs in Hiei's thumb. His fist  
jerked. She heard the by-now-familiar crunch of bone, and the  
jaki hung limp from his hand. "Too bad," said Hiei. A second  
later the jaki went up in flames.

She gave him a flat stare. "Way to debrief a suspect, Border  
Boy."

"I can't leave it to report back to whoever sent it," he said,  
letting the tiny amount of ash sift from his fingers. "Must have  
infected whole herd. I'll have to deal with them."

"Think again. These bulls are someone's property. They cost  
close to sixty thousand each."

"I'll let them destroy the ranch, then."

"Hiei---"

"Woman. Get inside. Now. And take that evil-smelling thing  
with you."

Ginger wriggled, trying to lick his face. He tilted his head  
back to avoid the puppy.

"Fine." She narrowed her eyes. "Red makes them mad. Try  
showing them the lining of your coat." With that, she turned and  
flounced back into the house.

Inside, Helen and the boys swamped her while she attempted to  
disentangle the puppy, wrestle the bokken out of her waistband  
and quell the shaking in her legs.

"I need the bathroom," she said, and wobbled off. A glance in  
the vanity mirror showed that she was covered in dog hair and  
dirt. When she tried to wash up she discovered that her hands  
were shaking as well. "And a drink," she told the bedraggled  
girl in the mirror. "And psychotherapy."

She made it back to the dining room and bit into her Danish,  
washing it down with cold coffee.

"I only killed two of them. Happy?"

She whirled. Hiei stood inside the French doors, his katana  
still in hand.

"I don't suppose there's much point in saying I didn't hear you  
come in."

"Ch." Smacking the sword back in its saya, he grabbed her Danish  
and finished off the coffee. "Is this all they ever eat in  
America? Candy? I'm going outside to eat a bull."

"A-hem..." Helen was peeking at them from the living room,  
flanked by the two boys. Kenny had the dog. Ginger, tail  
wagging like a lunatic, strained at her collar.

Trace's eyes bugged out at the sight of Hiei. "Is that a real  
sword?"

Kenny dropped Ginger's collar, but Mom made the save before the  
dog could attack them with kisses. "Are you a ninja?" Kenny  
asked.

"Yes!" Shayla said. "Yes, he is." She caught Hiei's stare from  
the tail of her eye, gave a little shake of her head,  
imperceptible to all but Hiei. He answered with one of his all-  
purpose grunts.

"Kewl!" said Kenny.

Trace joined them. "Can I see the sword?"

To Shay's surprise, Hiei presented it, still sheathed.

"Here. Balance it on the flat of your palms. Feel the weight."  
He passed it from Trace to Kenny.

"Wow. It's heavy!"

"Light for its size," he corrected them.

"I want to see it!"

Helen's face went white. Hiei retrieved the sword, shook his  
head. "Also razor-sharp," he warned.

"Boys!" Helen knelt to deal with the struggling, whining puppy.  
"Go take care of Ginger. In your room. Now."

"Aww, but Mom---"

"Listen to your kaasan," said Hiei.

"He means mother," translated Shayla.

"They're not stupid." Hiei's eyes were on the boys, but Shayla  
knew he was looking at her.

Kenny scooped up the dog. The boys filed out and she heard their  
retreating footsteps. No one moved until the door closed  
upstairs. Then, hand on hip, Helen gave Shayla the question-mark  
look.

Shayla swallowed, hard. "Uhm, Hiei? This is Helen. My friend  
Ronni's mother?"

"Kaasan." He snapped out an impressive bow.

"Helen... this is Hiei..." Her throat was getting tight. "M-  
my..." Oh, Mother of Mercy, forgive me! "Uhh. Fiance."

Hiei's face could have been carved of stone. "Woman," he said.  
"You reek of canine. I reek of cattle."

"Uhhhh. There's a bath in my room..."

He turned a questioning look to Helen. "Kaasan, we're imposing."

"N-not at all." Helen backed up a step or two. "I'll just, er,  
clean up in here and, ah, you can give me your clothes to wash.  
When you're ready."

"Thank you, Kaasan. It's too good of you." Then he turned to  
Shayla. "Woman. Show me."

She gave an inaudible squeak, grabbed her backpack, and led him  
downstairs.

She was staying where she usually stayed, in the Spencer's plush  
libary-cum-guest-room. Once inside, Hiei locked the door, and  
wedged his katana against it.

"Don't like this," he said. "Prefer higher ground." He rummaged  
in the closet, snapped out a plastic shopping bag, thrust it at  
her. "Bathroom?"

"O-over there." She was too frightened to move.

"Crazy gaijin. Bathrooms everywhere." He reached into the  
shower, turned the tap to Dante's Inferno level. Surrounded by  
billowing steam, he jerked his head at her. "You first."

He was really unreadable now. She knew the Japanese custom:  
shower first, then soak. She could not for the life of her move.

He shook the plastic bag at her. "Clothes here. I wasn't joking  
about the smell."

She hesitated.

"What? Anything I haven't seen before? Did you grow a head from  
the middle of your back during the two minutes I was away?"

"Hiei--"

He crashed a fist into the wall. She froze like a deer in  
headlights, trapped in memories of her father's alcoholic rages.

"I SAID I would come for you! What were you doing, running  
around like that?"

That un-froze her. "You might not care, Sword Boy, but I  
couldn't let the puppy die." Tearing her clothes off, she flung  
them at his face. He plucked them from the air and stuffed them  
into the bag.

"Wash your hair," he instructed, busy unloading his pockets,  
levering out of the coat. She scrubbed down furiously. When she  
finished he shoved a towel at her. "Leave water on for me."

She stepped out of the tub, grabbed the towel, wrapped it around  
her and turned to snap at him---

---and stopped. Her hands fluttered to her face. "Oh, Hiei."

"What?" he snarled. He still wore that black gauntlet and the  
headband. Gauntlet arm on the tiles, he leaned into the steaming  
water.

"You're hurt." There was a nasty gash down his lower back, one  
on his left arm, and several more across his shoulders. The  
water rilling off his diamond-hard frame turned pink with blood.

"The bulls must have---"

"Ch. Takes more than a stupid cow to do this."

She couldn't imagine what. El Chupacabra hadn't even laid a claw  
on him. "The jaki?"

He snorted, letting the shower swirl the tub clean.

"What did the jaki say?"

"At last. A real question. Nothing."

"And that's significant how?"

"Stupid gaijin arrangement," he grumbled, switching the water  
flow from shower head to tap, letting the tub fill. "Why don't  
they have shower and tub separate?" The water lapped around his  
calves. He looked at her, put out a hand. "Stupid, stupid  
woman," he sighed. "Come on."

"In there? With you? At the same time?"

"Did the bull puncture your eardrums? Get in here with your  
_ninja_."

Gulping, she took his hand. He sank into the bath and pulled her  
in after him, settling her back against his chest.

Hiei had been flying at a good clip when he caught her up from  
the bull's charge, and her ribs still ached from the impact. The  
hot water felt delicious.

"At least you smell like yourself again. Apricots. Ocean. That  
was it." The anger seemed to drain from him. He touched his  
nose to the back of her neck, inhaling.

Lightning bolts shot down her spine.

"And. The j-j-jaki?"

"Cowards. Any threat of pain, any bribe, they sing like birds.  
Not one talked. Something very strange going on."

"What?"

"That's what I need to find out."

She felt her muscles thaw, stretched out against him.

"And I'm not ninja." His voice settled into that soft, dangerous  
purr. "You lied, woman. Twice."

"OK. I'll just go down and tell everyone you're a demon."

"Fiance, you said. If I understand, that means someone you are  
promised to in future? Should have told them truth."

"Maybe. But when Robert--Ronni's dad---gets home he'll be mad  
enough. The two of us here like this, with his kids in the  
house? He'll throw a fit. I won't blame him."

"Crazy Americans. Calling friend's mother and father by first  
name. Truth is better."

"I'm sure Robert will love hearing it, whatever it is."

He didn't speak right away. His cheek rested against the back of  
her neck, turning her insides to lava: "Such pain. Katana no  
you ni. Hoshi no you ni. Tetsu no you ni."

The words pierced her: sword, stars, iron.

"Not fiance." He moved his nose to touch the rim of her ear, and  
breathed a word: "Husband."

The breath punched out of her lungs. She spun to gape at him in  
utter shock. Then her mouth began running of its own accord. "I  
don't recall any such ceremony taking place, do you? Or even so  
much as a prop---"

"Don't splash." He pulled her back.

She felt the swell and fall of his breathing, the ripple and  
flick of every muscle. "I tried to warn you. Last night. Tried  
to tell you if I start, I can't stop. So." His hand slid up to  
rest against his chest. "In here. From first moment. Yours.  
To death and beyond."

"But---"

"I understand there are ningen ceremonies to deal with this.  
Arrange them however you like." He hooked his left leg over  
hers.

"But, but---you know nothing about me!"

"I know everything about you."

That should have shut her up. "I know nothing about you."

"Don't argue, woman. Japanese wives are very submissive. Demon  
wives more so."

"You just bought yourself something far worse than a demon  
bride."

"Ch." The soft breath, exhaled into her ear, really, really  
should have shut her up. "And this would be---?"

"An Irish Catholic with a temper. The nuns who raised me make  
you seem tame."

"There you go, talking code again."

She tried to get up. He pulled her back.

"Bath's cold," she murmured.

"No, it's not." And in an instant, steaming tendrils rose again  
from the water. Both arms snaked around her waist. "You're  
staying right here."

"Make me."

"Not in tub. Don't want to drown."

0-0-0-0-0-

Much later, a light woke her.

A faint aura of cosmic hangover clung to her still. She told  
herself firmly it had all been a very strange dream, that Ronni  
would be upstairs in her own room, that none of this had  
happened.

Then she turned toward the light.

Hiei was curled in the easy chair, studying the big Atlas. Now  
is the time to back out, she thought.

Correction. Yesterday would have been the time to back out.  
Before any of this happened. Face it---you didn't want to. So:  
Miruku romansu after all.

She watched him reading, his face intent on the pages. That one  
didn't hold grudges. His temper had flared and cooled in the  
space of maybe five minutes. "Why are you reading the Atlas?"

He lifted his gaze from the book and met hers. "Get some sleep,  
woman. You'll need it." Then he went back to studying.

The entire month before he'd shown up, she had prayed for  
deliverance.

Be careful what you wish for, she thought, then: I'll think  
about it tomorrow; then, finally: When did you become Scarlett O'  
Hara?.

After a moment's reflection she dug in her backpack and came up  
with the Rosary Uncle Thomas had given her, its composition of  
some dark, striated wood.

She flung it at him. Without glancing up from the page he caught  
it. Only then did he look at it, puzzled. "What's this?"

"Wedding present. Test. Both. Neither."

"Stop talking in code, woman. Tomorrow I deal with Tousan,  
straighten things out." He slid the Rosary into a pocket.

Settling back on the bed, she curled away from the light of the  
reading lamp. Ot, Brother, what have I done? My next confession  
is going to make the priest's hair look just like Hiei's.

0-0-0-0-0-

Long after the last rays of light had vanished into the  
foothills, two of Wayne Jackson's ranch hands loaded the second  
dead Longhorn onto the back of a small flatbed truck.

It had been a busy day, and they were more concerned with picking  
up the dazed survivors before collecting the carrion.

"Sixty thousand bucks." Dogging down the carcass, Ace shook his  
head and spat a long stream of Morgan's Finest into the dust.  
"You'd think Old Man Jachson'd reinforce the fences."

"He's lucky the Spencers don't sue." Red tugged experimentally  
on the rope that fastened the black bull's foreleg to the truck  
bed. "Maybe he can sell this one as cat food."

Ace got in and started the truck. Red climbed into the  
passenger's seat.

Before the truck pulled away, a head like a tiny gargoyle's poked  
itself out of the dead bull's mouth. Quickly, the jaki  
disengaged from the carcass, scrambled off the back of the truck,  
and hit the ground unseen.

Glancing nervously around, it hurried off to report to its  
master.

-30-

(to be continued...)


	7. IB Ch 7: Journey To The West

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 7, Journey To The West Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: M---or maybe PG 13  
Summary: A stolen moment of peace, and then there is nowhere to hide.

All disclaimers in Chapter One.

Idiot Beloved Ch 7: Journey To The West  
by  
Kenshin

White Sands, New Mexico.

Its glittering dunes are in a constant state of flux. The first  
deception is the look of snow, mountainous, but not solid, rising  
in one spot only to collapse in another. The ever-changing  
landscape always deceives, frequently blinds, sometimes kills.

Even the desert-toughened plants and animals succumb to the harsh  
white ocean of gypsum. Some of the living creatures have  
bleached out to match their surroundings, desperate to adapt.

Their daily struggle to eke out a living takes place next door to  
the famed White Sands missile-testing range. But in White Sands,  
there are things deadlier than man-made weapons.

At the edge of this shimmering basin stands a house of lies. It  
is a long cool house thrust halfway over a cliff, waiting.

Inside, a miko, tall and striking with long chestnut hair,  
strolled into one of the rooms.

Furnished in the most understated modern design, the room  
contained not so much as a vase out of place or a painting left  
to chance. Architectural Digest would have featured it on the  
cover---had any of it been visible to normal eyes.

On a low table in front of a window lay three severed heads. One  
of the heads, greenish in color, sported three horns.

Another was brownish, with two horns, and the third, a smaller  
gray head with a single, barely-discernible horn.

The miko strolled over and picked up the smallest of the oni  
heads.

"Poor little thing," she giggled.

The head rolled its eyes at her.

She sighed. "Who did this to you? Did it hurt?"

A figure appeared in the doorway. His gray suit had been cut by  
an angel, but his ancestry had evidently included a number of  
garden variety toads. He blinked with mottled golden eyes; his  
thick pale tongue passed over the lipless gash of a mouth.

"Better put that down. My lord will be angry."

"Angry? With me?" The miko laughed. But she carefully replaced  
the head of the oni before following the not-quite-man out of the  
room.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Five minutes."

She kept murmuring the same thing. Hiei shook her again. Baka  
onna. "Come on. Lot of work to do."

At least this time she opened her eyes and looked at him. "If  
you wanted the stupid bells you should have just SAID." She  
pulled the sheet up over her nose and mouth and turned away.

Spinning her face-up, pinning her shoulders in place with his  
unwarded arm, Hiei thought better of it, and let her go.

She lay back regarding him, one arm pillowing her head, the fire-  
colored hair in disarray. "I suppose you could carry one and I  
could carry the other."

"No!"

She raised an eyebrow.

"No one's taking the bells now," he said, more quietly. "And you  
are not picking up anything heavier than a hairbrush."

"Why?"

He hesitated.

Just now, he wanted nothing more than to shun the outside world  
and stay here with her---this firebird of his---and not emerge  
until winter.

But it could not be done. The very fact that the bulls had gone  
after the house, then after her, proved the two of them could not  
remain idle. There was nowhere to hide, and---

Besides---

"There's something you need to know." He put his mouth close to  
her ear and whispered a few words.

She sat up, clutching the sheet to her like a shield, blinking  
those gumdrop eyes. "Is that even possible?"

"Ch."

"But last night---this morning---"

He shifted uncomfortably against the pillows.

She made another of those odd warding signs against her head and  
chest, then lay back, her eyes fixed on a point in the ceiling.

"Woman," he began.

"Show me what's under that headband. And the gauntlet."

"Can't. Too dangerous."

"Then tell me."

"On the way. Maybe." He slid out of the bed and began to dress.  
It was probably best not to linger. "I'm going to speak to  
Tousan. Get dressed and packed. Leave your bag for me."

She nodded absently and turned over again. "Five minutes," she  
murmured.

Rolling his eyes, he secured the katana to his belt, whirled into  
his mantle, and went out the door.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

In the cool light of dawn, three members of an elite team stood  
beneath the sheltered eaves of a temple, gazing out into the  
forest beyond. The fourth was notably absent.

The compact, dark-haired one suppressed a yawn. "And this is  
where you felt the squishy thing, Kuwabara?"

The tallest one nodded. "Pretty sure. Here or somewhere  
around."

"What was it like?"

"Squishy."

Yuusuke laughed.

Standing next to them, Kurama narrowed his eyes, lips parted, as  
if testing the wind that stirred his extravagant hair. "You two  
stay here and cover me. I'll take a closer look."

"Listen, Kurama." Kuwabara folded his meaty arms. "If you think  
this thing's gonna appear on cue---"

Kurama smiled. "Let's see if it does." Ghosting from the front  
of Genkai's temple to pause behind a stone lantern, Kurama  
released a breath, extending his senses.

He detected nothing, no evidence of any youki, no ki in fact of  
any sort save the flickerings of what belonged in a forest:  
insects, birds, animals.

It wasn't a good sign. Kuwabara's spiritual sensitivity was  
superior to his own, but Kurama should have been able to locate  
some trace of an intruder, even if only the memory of a smell.  
The only thing that jarred was a faint vibration of the earth,  
almost as if a heavy truck was rumbling past just out of earshot.  
The source of those vibrations was no truck. All of the fox-  
spirit's careful study and all of his wild speculations had led  
to only one conclusion, and it wasn't a happy one. The thought  
of tangling with such a creature was---

Kurama shivered. In spite of that, he stepped out from his  
shelter and sprinted, nearly soundless, across the dew-sparked  
grass.

He stopped at the edge of the forest. A rank scent filled the  
air, causing him to catch his breath. Something was there,  
watching him. Something that had gotten past Genkai's sutras.  
Impossible, but---

Even as he conjured his Rose Whip, the thing that was looking at  
him shot back into the earth and vanished.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Family breakfast, thought Hiei, complete with inane chatter.  
Wonderful.

Maybe his little firebird would come up soon and throw something  
at him. He brightened at the thought.

The Tousan was tall like the Kaasan, but he looked a bit faded,  
and wore some sort of thick lenses that rested on his nose and  
hooked over his ears. Tousan and Kaasan were both cooing at him.

At least the two boys were tolerable, openly fascinated by his  
sword.

Ah. Those were her footsteps. No one else heard them until---

"There you are, Shay! Congratulations!" Tousan cried. Kaasan  
echoed his wishes.

Hiei flicked a glance her way. She was framed in the doorway for  
a barely-perceptible moment, like a beautiful painting. Then she  
took her place at the dining room table.

"Thank you," was all she said. She kept her gaze down. Hiei  
tried to stare her into responding. She refused to look. What  
was her game?

Tousan and Kaasan babbled on. The girl remained silent. Hiei  
quickly fueled himself. Good. Not candy. Finally. Some kind  
of salty meat, and those were---eggs? Big ones.

He took a moment to remind his little firebird that they would  
need to hurry, and went down to the guest room, got her bag and  
put it in the Jeep, pausing to test the air for signs of jaki, or  
worse. None. Again, good.

Back inside, he breezed through courtesies with the family. It  
would probably shock Urameshi and Kuwabara to see him do so, but  
Hiei had learned the basics from observing Kurama, who had  
politeness down to a fine art. And not standing out was often  
useful. Youko Kurama could be cold, cruel, and abrupt; Minamino  
Shuuichi slid through the ningen world without attracting undue  
attention.

While the firebird fussed with some girl thing in the washroom,  
Hiei stood at the front door, the Tousan at his side apologizing  
about Rancher Jackson's lack of decent fencing.

Hiei only half-listened. He was about to attempt something that,  
if it went right, would earn them a swift and painless death.

If it went wrong---

"Women," laughed the Tousan. "Never ready on time."

Was this an important thing to know? "H'n."

At last she emerged from the hallway, eyes still downcast, meek.  
That made him nervous. From what Hiei could figure out, both  
from his own observations and from listening to Yuusuke, ningen  
females were high-maintainance creatures, demanding,  
unpredictible, weak, but possibly rewarding in other ways.

What was this one up to? Surely she hadn't taken his demon-wife  
joke seriously?

"Tousan," he said. "I'm being impolite, but--"

"Have to catch a plane?"

"Something like that." Hiei stood apart while his firebird bade  
farewell to Kasaan and the kids. The irritating canine,  
thankfully, was not included in the party.

And then they were in the Jeep, on the road. The weather was  
fair and clear, the air bright with hundreds of scents that did  
not, at the moment, include youkai.

He was a bit more used to handling the Jeep now; it was easier to  
take his gaze from the road and steal glances at her.

She stretched in the passenger seat and blew a long breath. Then  
she turned that mischievous smack of a glance his way, and the  
relief was exquisite.

"Honestly, I love those people, but five more minutes of playing  
cat and mouse with you---What did you say to them?"

"That everything was my fault."

"Wise man. Keep that in mind and you'll do well in life."

Everything was good. Everything was fine. He wanted to laugh,  
to beam at her. Life could be wonderful.

"We're going back to the temple?"

He nodded, paying attention to the road now.

"So you really can drive this rustbucket just by watching me do  
it. Don't worry; those horrible grinding noises are normal."

This time he did laugh.

When they reached the temple, he parked the Jeep well away from  
the bell towers. "Stay here. Don't move until I come for you."

She laced both hands around her knees and settled into  
watchfulness. He vaulted onto the roof and did a quick  
reconnaisance.

The oni were gone. Not gone like the Chupa-something had gone,  
not torn to bits and eaten by normal desert scavengers.

Gone as if they had never existed in the first place. No scent  
of the blood shed in battle, neither his nor theirs.

He hit the ground and ran to fetch her, darting glances all about  
as they walked toward the bell towers.

She narrowed her eyes. "What's wrong?"

Careful not to panic her, he kept his voice level. "Stay close  
to me. I'm going to slap sutras on the bells so no one else will  
steal them. Sometimes that can backfire. Like hanging up a  
sign: Valuable, Keep Away. Some demons take that as a  
challenge."

Working as quickly as he could, he sealed the bells in all six  
directions. Then with a jerk of his head he indicated the Jeep.  
"Let's go."

There was a low, barely detectible rumbling in the ground that he  
didn't like, and he knew this wasn't earthquake country. "Now."

"Hiei, why the rush?"

He shut his eyes for a split-second, took a deep breath, looked  
at her.

"Beloved," he began, the word strange on his tongue.

She sank to her knees, staring up at him.  
"We can't stay here. Too dangerous." He didn't like to see her  
on her knees; he knelt to face her. "Something's after you. Not  
me. You. That animal in the desert wasn't interested in me.  
And those bulls, they were sent deliberately to your location.  
Earlier yesterday there was something at this temple, and I think  
it---they---were looking for you."

She stared at him, white around the nostrils.

"I think you know it too. Best to get you to Japan and---"

"Behind you," she said.

He shoved her out of the way, then turned, and saw it.

He wanted to run. He froze instead. Every hair on his body  
stood at attention.

This was it: the thing that had found him when he first reached  
the shrine. Forcing himself to act, sliding the katana out and  
holding it before him in a double-handed, braced grip, Hiei  
barked a low command to the girl. "Get on my back," he said, not  
taking his eyes from the spot where---

He heard the hiss of gravel as she approached, felt her weight.  
"Hold tight."

"What is it?" she breathed, lacing her hands around him.

He didn't know. It was like nothing he'd ever seen, but its aura  
was familiar. Its aura struck ice at his bones, freezing him  
almost unto paralysis. Something ancient and slow, and cold, and  
immeasurably wicked.

And Hiei, Jagan Master, Master of the Black Dragon, slayer of  
countless enemies, was afraid.

Afraid.

A white tube, the thickness of his arm, rose from the ground near  
the bell tower like a fern unfolding in spring. It was not  
plant-work, not like Kurama's doings; in a strict sense it was  
probably not even alive at all. A smell like flint, but with  
elements of---no, gone. Changing too quickly.

The white tube spiraled upward in a way he didn't like, then the  
tip curved down toward them in a way he liked even less.

It was then that he spotted a head, tiny and vicious-looking, the  
white eyes glittering down at him.

"Don't let go," he told her. The white tendril-creature whipped  
forward, seeking him. He catapulted back and snapped a spark of  
ki into his katana, forming a round blue shield just slightly  
bigger in diameter than his body and extended sword.

The enemy writhed, then crashed down like a hammer, connected  
with the crackle of protective energy from his shield. Hiei  
sprang back as the creature straightened and pulsed, likely  
increasing its strength.

"Jeep," he gasped, with another backward leap. "Driver's seat.

Take off."

She squeezed his shoulder in response. Then he was on the  
windshield, the creature's head battering at him. He heard her  
land in the seat, could not afford even a glance back. His type  
of sword-shielding wouldn't stand up to repeated blows of this  
nature. He parried, turning the sword, always keeping the shield  
between her and the enemy. The motor coughed, snarled, refused  
to catch.

Baka na! Ignoring Hiei, their foe skittered around the edge of  
the shield, reaching for her. Damn, he thought, lunging to keep  
the shield between her and the creature, it learns fast.

The motor caught! Gears ground. The hood jerked backward from  
under him and he flipped to land on his feet, but the searching  
tendril, with seemingly no limit to its length, again shot past  
his guard.

Drop the shielding. Flick forward to swing the katana in a  
sideways arc. Slice through the enemy.

His sword connected. The creature exploded in a burst of icy  
powder. Some of the powder struck his face, and he could no  
longer feel the exposed skin. No time. He spun, flickering down  
the road, sheathing the katana.

She was already about a quarter-mile ahead, the Jeep slowing. He  
caught up and hopped in beside her and she sped up. For a while  
there was only the sound of the wind.

"Anything else you'd like to tell me?" she managed, her voice  
thin and tight.

"Drive fast."

She drove awhile in silence, then: "Where to?"

"The airport. I checked the map."

"The---you don't mean that little fleabitten wind sock of an  
airport that's no good for anything but crop dusters and World  
War II rejects?"

"That would be the one."

"Target Japan?"

He nodded.

"Hiei." She pulled to the shoulder and stopped the Jeep. "Now  
listen to me."

He vaulted to the windshield, where he could get a better view in  
case any suicidal Chupa-what's-its should take it into their  
thick skulls to attack. "Listening."

She spoke as if to a retarded child, or maybe Kuwabara. "My aunt  
and uncle up in Palo Alto. One phone call and I can get a rental  
car. We can drive to a real airport, then fly up there. They'll  
be happy enough to let us stay with them."

"I don't have driving license."

"I do. And then they will buy us tickets. For a real jetliner.  
That serves food and has bathrooms and everything."

"Not possible." There was no sign of movement and no scent of  
youki. Good.

"Why not possible?"

"I don't have---" What did Urameshi call those things?  
"Passport. No form of identification."

"So the border agent's here illegally? I find that funny. Don't  
you find that funny?"

He dropped back into the seat next to her. "Did you see what  
just attacked us?"

She nodded. Then closed her eyes and leaned against the steering  
wheel.

"We don't have time."

"All right." She sighed, straightened, then pulled the Jeep onto  
the road again. "What do you intend to do?"

"I'm stealing a plane."

"Don't tell me you know how to fly."

He laughed.

"You know what I meant. An airplane."

"I don't know how to fly one."  
"But you'll watch the pilot and---?"

He shrugged. "It's tricky. Too big a plane, even I can't do it.  
Has to be one-person craft."

More than tricky, Hiei knew. If the plane was too small...

Best not to think along those lines.

She drove on. At the airport, he pulled her bag from the space  
behind the seats and slung it over one shoulder. He hesitated.  
Its weight was negligible. But with what he was planning to  
do---

No. This tiny bag would not make the difference whether they  
lived or died.

She got out, eyeing him.

"Say good-bye to rustbucket and listen close. Stay behind me.  
Under no circumstances come around to front. Stay silent. Watch  
for my moves. I'll tell you what to do if I can."

"While you're doing what?"

"Using what's under the headband." He strode toward the hangar,  
and she fell into step.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The sun had gone down over White Sands, leaving the scorched  
landscape under a blanket of indigo.

Inside the house was the sound of softly padding footsteps. They  
echoed down the length of a hallway, and paused.

The miko hesitated in the doorway of the room with the long glass  
windows. The only illumination came from the the creature that  
had the outward appearance of a man, sitting close to a big  
obsidian globe, a faint glow emanating from his long, braided  
hair and alabaster skin.  
It was an unhealthy light, tinged with the rot of decomposing  
time, and as it touched the surface of the miko's face, she  
appeared old, wrinkled, a crone who had outlived her usefulness.  
But as she crossed the threshold of the room, and the light slid  
to the floor, leaving her young and vibrant.

The blue light picked out the movements of her feet, as if afraid  
to touch her in a more intimate fashion.

She glided to the low table that stood before the windows and put  
out a hand toward the oni heads, but stopped, instead crossing to  
where the man sat. "Only two of them now?"

"The other one outlived its usefulness."

"Then why are these other two heads still here? Did the enemy  
get away?" she said.

The white-haired man laughed and pulled the miko onto his lap.  
"No one gets away from me."

-30-

(To be continued---today!) ;)


	8. IB Ch 8: Walking on Water

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 8, Walking on Water  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: M, maybe PG-13  
Summary: Fleeing due west, Hiei faces a challenge he can't possibly meet---or can he?

All Disclaimers in Chapter One

Note: With short chaps like these, I'll be updating weekly, two at a time. With longer chapters, like Ch. 6, I'll do them singly.

Idiot Beloved Ch. 8: Walking on Water  
by  
Kenshin

"You can open your eyes now," said Hiei.

"Baka," she snorted. "They're not closed."

Fool. She'd called him a fool. He could lay claim to that title  
indeed. Not even Kuwabara could have so thoroughly botched a  
mission: no bells, fleeing an enemy, tail between legs.

He watched her stretch full-length on the cabin floor.

"All done with your little voodoo tricks?" she asked.

Checking his spells, then the plane's instrumentation, Hiei  
nodded. "For now."

Back at the tiny airstrip in Arizona, he had used the Jagan to  
control the owner/operator of the craft---a little 4-seat Cessna  
that could be flown by a single pilot, never mind that its range  
was abysmal. It was the best he could manage. He had left the  
pilot on the Pacific coast to find his own way back home.

Then came the hard part: taking the Cessna up, homing in on a  
jetliner, and completing the tricky maneuver of landing his craft  
on top of the larger one.

A binding spell would keep it there; his Jagan would keep  
passengers and crew from "noticing," and he was fairly confident  
the little plane would stay piggybacked on the bigger one until  
he needed to touch down.

He knew he could land the plane; he had done so in California at  
a small airport that might have been the twin of the one in  
Arizona. Disengaging the plane just at the right moment at the  
airport in Tokyo would tell another story. He wasn't sure he  
could prevent that many people from seeing the  
jetliner's unwanted parasite.

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Daijoubu?"

She rubbed her neck. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Sighing once, he sat back. "You can talk now. Use small words.  
Don't expect much by way of answers."

"Right," she said. "But, uhm, Hiei?"

"Good woman. Obedient. Small words."

"Remember you told me you can't read English that well?"

He snorted. "I read it better than you read kanji."

"Maybe, demo, demo... the letters on the jet read 'Quantas.'"

He kept an idle eye on the little plane's instrumentation. The  
smell inside the cabin was artificial, metallic, with undertones  
of the fuel, but he could stand it for as long as needed. "So?"

"So. Chances are, a Quantas plane departing from California  
isn't going to Japan. It's going to Australia."

Damn... That would take them too far south! And what were the  
odds of finding another jetliner, and performing the tricky  
piggyback gambit again?

But the important thing was not to panic her. "Still headed in  
right direction. We'll be okay a while." He stretched the kinks  
from his arms. "Besides, you complain we know nothing of one  
another. Here's your chance."

She gave a derisive sniff. "We both hate milk and one of us is  
an egomaniacal showoff. What else do you need?"

"Baka."

She was kneeling on the floor of the cabin, close enough to  
touch. He joined her. Unused to personal revelation, he sought  
for something to give. "I also don't like tofu."

"Neither do I. Now. Very, very important information you must  
know about me."  
"And this is---?"

"One. I am not, repeat, not, ever eating anything that has  
tentacles. Two, when we reach Tokyo, whatever you do, don't drag  
me up that thing that looks like the Eiffel Tower."

"Tokyo Tower? Why---"

"Have I mentioned I'm afraid of heights? You, on the other hand,  
probably stand there at off moments, feeling superior to all you  
survey."

"See?" He shot her a grin. "You do know everything about me."

"I don't even know how old you are."

He told her, liking the effect of her jaw dropping open and the  
words she employed. "What exactly is cradle-robber?" he asked.

She blushed. "Someone who, er, hooks up with jailbait."

"I don't know what jailbait is."

"You're the jailbait here."

He considered that statement briefly. "I like that term, cradle-  
robber. I will use it on you."

"As long as we're spilling our guts, where are we headed?"

"Tokyo. Pay attention."

"I get Tokyo. I get Japan. I can even find them on a map much  
better than you can read the word 'Quantas.' But where? A  
palace? A cardboard box under the bridge?"

Hiei blinked.

Where indeed? He wasn't taking her back to Makai. Unthinkable.  
Nor a tree branch outside Kurama's window.

He sighed. "For now, I'm afraid---another temple."  
"I want a refund," she said darkly.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Team Urameshi had gathered at Genkai's temple to discuss certain  
events.

"I wish I could disappear for a solid month with no worries and  
no responsibilities." Genkai sat crosslegged on her temple  
floor, blowing a plume of smoke past Kurama's sensitive nose.

Kurama sneezed. "But think of the paperwork."

Yuusuke tried to sneak a cigarette from the pack lying on the  
floor between them. "Speaking of which, where were you the other  
day, you old hag?"

Genkai slapped Yuusuke's hand away. "Out buying a hat. What's  
it to you?" She turned back to Kurama. "You didn't even get a  
tiny piece of the invader?"

Kurama spread his hands. "Apparently not."

"And Kuwabara---" Genkai shot a glance at the boy who was sitting  
silent, a little apart from the others. "You weren't close  
enough to sense anything?"

"It was squishy." Yuusuke laughed. "Go ahead, ask. He'll tell  
you it was squishy."

"Laugh all you want, guys," muttered Kuwabara. "This is a bad  
one. I can tell."

"And where on earth is Hiei?" Genkai crushed out the stub of her  
cigarette. Yuusuke inched the ash tray toward him with one foot.  
Genkai kicked it across the room. "From what I've heard this  
should have been no more than a 24-hour gambit, even with time  
for sightseeing."

"I dunno, Grandma. Your guess is as good as mine." Yuusuke  
flopped back, pillowing his head with his hands. "Maybe Hiei got  
a better offer."

Kurama let his gaze rest on a white jar carved with the figure of  
a serpent. He knew, though Hiei hadn't expressed it in detail,  
that his friend was tired of being 'Koenma's lapdog.' Selling  
the temple bells to the highest bidder was banner-headline  
stupid. But Hiei was not stupid. Difficult, yes. Stubborn,  
certainly.  
Still, Kurama supposed, there was a first time for everything.  
"I wonder indeed."

"I don't care." Yuusuke shot upright and managed to snag a smoke  
from the pack. "All I know is, I wanna go hit something."

"Be careful what you wish for," was Genkai's soft response.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The little firebird had apparently decided she was on speaking  
terms with Hiei again. "I suppose I'll meet the team members,"  
she brooded.

"Yes."

"And the demonic parents?"

"Dead."

She dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry."

He reached forward, but let his hand fall before touching her.  
"Why sorry? Did you kill them? Anyway I have a sister."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Really."

When she spoke again, it was not about his sister. "That  
pilot---you said he did what you wanted because of what's under  
your headband."

"Too many questions."

"You got nowhere else to go. Try me."

He supposed she would have to know at some point. Quickly, he

filled her in on the nature of the Jagan, and how he had come to  
attain it. He tried to read her expression, but there were times  
when his firebird could emulate a statue to perfection, and this  
was one of them.

She spoke. "Show it to me."

"Show you what?"

"The Jagan."

"I don't want you seeing it."

She slid forward so that their knees touched. "Show it to me."  
Her hand reached out toward his head.

He jerked back. "Stop. You can't lift the band even if you try.  
Only I can---"

"Do it."

The mechanical hum inside the cabin almost drowned out her words.  
Her voice was soft, so soft he could barely hear it. He shoved  
his hands in his pockets, but they refused to stay. Emerging on  
their own, slowly they reached for the band of protective fabric  
and lifted it. He just managed to keep the Jagan tight shut.

"You look younger. Less angry." Her cool slim fingers brushed  
his forehead, close to the hairline. He fought back shivers.  
"Enough," he warned.

"Open it." It was not a command, it was not a warning, it was  
nothing but a whisper coming from the tiny frame of an ordinary  
ningen female.

Slowly, the Eye opened. He was not aware of holding his breath  
until he was forced to take another.

She sat back. Her face revealed nothing. With hands that he  
refused to allow to shake, Hiei replaced the Jagan's ward.

She had seen the Eye and she was still she. It was enough.

At last she spoke. "It's not so bad," she pronounced. "But  
couldn't they find one to match your other two?"

He snorted. "Americans. Nothing shocks you."

"And this sister, this Yukina, now that you've found her---"  
"She doesn't know I'm her brother. And it stays that way."

"Coward," she said softly.

"Maybe so." He came up off his knees, glancing out the small  
craft's side window. "The Jagan, I can also use it to scout for  
other planes that might be headed in right direction. I count on  
you to tell me whether they read 'Quantas.'"

"Hold it a second!" Her eyes flew wide.

He scowled at her. "What now?"

"You can see stuff with that?"

"Baka onna, what do I just finish telling you?"

She snatched up her backpack and held it in front of her like a  
shield. "Are you looking through my clothes?"

"What?" Ignoring her wounded glare, he burst into laughter.  
"What?" he sputtered. "We are in middle of Pacific ocean sitting  
on wrong plane and you are worried I can see your underwear?"

"I think this is the first time you've laughed like that. Does  
it hurt? Do you need to lie down?"

He tilted his head and gave her a lazy glance. "Yes," he purred.  
"And yes. With you."

"Well, Three-eyes?" She put the backpack aside and stretched  
out. "You said we had time. I hear you're supposed to take some  
exercise on these long international flights."

The longing---the sword, the stars, the iron---was so great Hiei  
had to turn his face away from her. "Want to. Can't."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

White Sands at night is a pool of darkness and sorrow. At the  
heart of this sorrow sits the house not visible to the naked eye.  
The house built of lies. Thrusting over the cliff like a  
sentinel on the battlements, it waits for the first wave of  
attack.

A man with a long white braid held the last of the oni heads in  
his hand. Near enough to touch him, a miko stood watching.

He loosened the end of an ice-colored hair from his braid and  
took the end between thumb and forefinger. Slowly, moving with  
great skill and deliberation, he inserted the hair's end between  
the oni's eyes.

The dead eyes snapped open.

The man took off his sunglasses, revealing his own white eyes.

"What do you see?" whispered the miko.

"That little demon." The man-shaped creature gave a thin white  
smile. "The one with the sword. Underneath the oni, kicking  
out."

"He must be brave."

"He's afraid of me. This I know."

The miko giggled.

"He took her away. It is hard for me to feel her now." The man  
held out his hand to the miko. She settled into his lap, a  
vacant smile playing over her features.

"I thought she might be at the other temple," he said, slowly.  
"I was wrong. I had the sense of her just before, but she is  
fading. Fading, like the sunset. Like a star falling away from  
the earth."

"I hope she's not dead." The miko sighed. Her head descended to  
the man's shoulder; her long fall of chestnut hair hiding him  
like a cloak. "I love it when you get all poetic-y."

"You're a fool. She's not dead. That I would know. What I  
don't yet know is how I will take her. But I'm getting stronger,  
thanks to you---so take her I will."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Hiei studied the fuel gauge, but each time he looked at it, it  
told him the same thing. The valiant little Cessna was on empty.

Still, the craft, with its glide ratio of 10:1, would have about  
another ten miles to go before crashing. And every mile counted.

He had been unable to locate another flight within reasonable  
distance. In the end he was forced to take the tiny,  
underpowered craft up into the air far too soon.

The minute she had told him he selected the wrong plane, he knew  
this would happen. They would go down into the Pacific Ocean,  
and it would be better if they left the cabin while the plane  
still had some altitude and he could use it to push off.

Perhaps he should have listened to her earlier and taken his  
chance with a commercial flight. Too late now.

"Woman," he called.

"What is it now?"

"Strap that bag to your back. Then take my mantle and wrap it  
around you. Quickly."

As she did, he set the plane's descent to a long, shallow angle.

"What are you planning?"

He told her. Her eyes widened, but she remained silent while he  
brought her close to him and worked out the best way to keep them  
both from immediately plunging into the ocean.

"Funny thing about water," he said, securing her to his body with  
his scarf. "Looks liquid. But if you hit it at the right speed  
and angle, it's almost solid."

"Like skipping rocks?"

Whatever that was. "Hit it at the wrong angle, break your neck."

She nodded. "We had a kid in diving class who---never mind."

"Ready?"

Her arms slipped around him. In a tiny voice, she spoke against  
his chest. "So you're going to walk on water."

"Inevitable."

She sighed. "Some day, you'll understand why what you've just  
said is significant."

He couldn't pay much attention to her now. "No matter what  
happens, hold on."

Her hands were cold on his upper back. "Are we there yet?"

"Best not to make me laugh." Best also not to tell her they had  
absolutely no chance of reaching their destination. But he had  
to tell her something.

"I won't let anything happen to you. Close your eyes and keep  
still."

And Hiei set himself to blow a hole in the cabin.

-30-

(To be continued!)


	9. IB Ch 9: MinnaMino Residence

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 9, Minna-Mino Residence  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T

Summary: Kurama feels a certain presence at his window---or does he?

Author Notes: In which Kaasan shows us the first faint glimmer  
of Action Heroine Shiori she becomes in IB's sequel.

Shiori is a pretty underused character, often appearing as just a  
stage prop to let Minamino-tachi in and out of the house. But  
what sort of woman would it take to raise a demon/human fusion?

All disclaimers to be found in Chapter One.

Idiot Beloved Ch. 9: Minna-mino Residence  
by  
Kenshin

_A Modern Demonary, by Thomas McNeil:_

'When conversing with other scholars of White Sands Serpent, there  
is always a furtive pause, for one can never be sure whether the  
Serpent is bending his will toward the speaker, listening in on  
any conversation, anywhere in the world. And if there is one  
thing to be avoided, it is to have that one's attention. If he  
can read you, he has you; he will instantly seize upon your  
weakness and use it to his advantage. His power is never  
stronger than when he is mixing lies with truth.

That said, it is indeed difficult to determine myth from fact  
regarding this demon. Some experts claim that he is as old as  
the earth itself. Of a certainty, he was there in The Garden,  
whispering his poison to the First Woman. Others claim he is  
older than that by far. Each theory has its own attractions, and  
we implore the reader to refer to the many footnotes regarding  
some excellent research in this field.

As to his other powers, ice is the chiefest among them, but ice  
that swallows fire---'  
  
Kurama laid a scrap of paper into the Franciscan monk's book,  
marking the place. He needed a break. The half-open window  
caught the evening breeze; he glanced at clouds forged into the  
color of Hiei's eyes.

And if a certain fire demon himself should appear, the window  
always made a good landing-spot.

Wincing, Kurama glanced at his other books and hesitated, one  
hand hovering over his most ancient tome. Age-spotted and worn,  
The Daemonica Compendia was an exquisitely detailed text, but  
translating its arcane language always gave him a headache.

Wait. Was that---?

Yes. The faintest spark of a well-known ki, as if coming from a  
tremendous distance.

Hiei. Just back from America, perhaps? Kurama knew how fast the  
little demon could travel. He glanced at the window,

expecting the slight thickening of air, the black blur of Hiei's  
landing.

Nothing.

Kurama was just sliding one reluctant finger along the edge of  
the old book when someone bammed on the front door.

Kuwabara? Unlikely. Maybe Yuusuke? Or some particularly rude  
delivery boy?

He heard his mother answer the door: "Yes?"  
"Kaasan!" Hiei's familiar voice. "Please."

Please? Was that a word in Hiei's vocabulary? Well. There was  
a first time for everything. Lips twitching in a mischevous  
smile, Kurama got up and strolled into the hall.

Kaasan's answer was lost in Hiei's reply. "I'm b-b-being imp-p-  
olite---"

Hiei? Stuttering? Apologizing?

Kurama pattered downstairs and stopped mid-step.

On his knees, teeth chattering, looking as though an oni had  
ripped the shirt from his body and took several layers of skin  
with it---that couldn't be Hiei.

No wonder Kurama had thought the fire demon's ki-spark was coming  
from far away; they were in the same room, and he could barely  
detect it.

Ah, thought Kurama. Hiei must have quite a story to tell.

Clutching a black bundle that stank of vomit and seawater, Hiei  
struggled to speak. "Is Suu---" Some hesitation over the  
unfamiliar, ningen name. "Is Shuuichi-k-kun at home?"

"I'm here." Kurama reached the bottom of the stairs as Hiei  
surged to his feet, still clutching the bundle. Up close Kurama  
saw the bundle was shaking as well.

Kaasan tilted her head at Hiei. "And you are---?"

"It's all right," Kurama assured her. "Hiei's a friend."

"My. You have such interesting friends." Glancing coolly from  
Kurama to Hiei to the black rags, Kaasan said, "I'll make tea."  
Without so much as a sigh, she headed to the kitchen.

"K-k-k-" came from the black bundle.

"She c-can't stop shaking." Hiei was shuddering himself. A fold  
of cloth fell away; part of a girl's face emerged.

Hiei looked as though he had battled death and placed third. The  
girl looked worse. "Can you make it upstairs?"  
Hiei didn't even waste energy to glare. He gathered the girl and  
wobbled toward the stairs. As they climbed, Kurama hovered  
close, in case the smaller demon toppled backward. "What did you  
do to her, Hiei?"

"Plane went down," Hiei gasped. "Traveled over water."

"How far?"

Hiei told him.

Kurama widened his eyes. "Well. Quite a feat, that. No wonder  
you both look as you do."

A female voice stuttered, in English. "B-b-athroom..." The fact  
that this girl could talk was a good sign. Kurama supposed he  
would learn who she was later.

Outside the bathroom, Hiei deposited the bundle, which  
miraculously stayed on its feet. The black mantle fell away,  
revealing her.

Swiftly, Kurama stepped back into the shadows to observe.

She was small, with coloring almost the opposite to Hiei's. And  
trembling like a flower in a high wind. Clinging to the knob,  
the girl managed to open the bathroom door; Hiei followed. She  
said, again in English, "You are NOT coming in with me."

Hiei put out a hand. "Stupid woman, you can't even walk."

"Watch me." Stumbling inside, she slammed the door in Hiei's  
face.

Hiei braced himself against the wall, his legs like jelly. "I c-  
can't stop her shaking," he repeated.

"Probably nothing worse than simple exposure." Kurama reached for  
Hiei's hand. Glaring, Hiei batted him away. The movement  
knocked his balance off; Hiei gave a little sideways stagger and  
slid halfway down the wall.

"You're no good to her like this," Kurama said patiently.

"Stop fussing." Nevertheless, Hiei allowed Kurama to lay hold of  
his icy wrist. It took all of a minute's work for Kurama to pour  
the tiniest bit of his own ki into the other demon. It had an  
immediate effect; straightening, Hiei tore off the remaining rags  
of his shirt and stuffed them into a pocket.

From inside the bathroom came the sound of running water.  
Kurama frowned. "Does that one know how to use a Japanese bath?"

"Nobody's allowed to call her stupid but me." Crashing a fist on  
the door, Hiei called, "Woman! I'm coming in."

"No need to break down the door." Kurama folded his arms. "You  
come with me. I'll get Kaasan to help her."

"NO!"

Kurama lifted an eyebrow.

"Please," Hiei said, quiet now.

Well, thought Kurama. There's a second time for everything, too.  
"Hiei says please? To me? Wait. Let me get out my calendar and  
mark the day. Or I could call Kaasan up to witness."

"Or you could find a new place to keep your head once I separate  
it from your neck."

"Good to see you feeling better. Please what?"

"Please. Concoct one of your potions for her. Something that  
won't harm either ningen or youkai."

"Ningen or youkai? Her scent is pure ningen." Kurama leaned  
against the wall, slanting a mischievous look at Hiei. "What's  
wrong, Hiei? Not sure what she is?"

Hiei was not amused. "Can you do it or can't you?"

"Of course I can. The question is, will I."

"Pity you won't be able to ask questions with your lungs dangling  
from my fist."

Shaking his head, Kurama laughed. "Since you put it so sweetly.  
And I'll make something for you, too. You're so depleted that  
the amount of ki I gave you just now won't last."

Without bothering to respond, Hiei opened the bathroom door.  
Kurama darted downstairs and had a quick word with Kaasan. Then  
it was back to his room, where he got busy making a couple of  
designer tonics.

When he finished, Kurama put the two drinks on a tray and tucked  
two bundles under his left arm. Tray and bundles in hand, he  
made his way to the bathroom and tapped on the door with his  
foot.  
This would be fun.

"What?"

Ah. The sweet music of Hiei's snarl.

"Good. You're back to normal. Now open the door."

Splashing, some growling. The door opened a crack. "If you so  
much as attempt to look at her I will---"

"Here." Kurama pushed the tray at the door. The door opened a  
bit wider, just enough to admit Hiei's warded arm. "Take the  
green one first. That's yours."

The door opened wider still. Kurama resisted the slightly wicked  
impulse to study the girl in the tub; he'd have to crane his neck  
for that, and Hiei would notice.

Hiei took the green glass and tossed it off at a gulp. "Keh."

"The yellow one's for her. She won't like the taste any more  
than you did."

"She's tougher than she looks." Hiei snatched the glass from the  
tray and set it on the vanity behind him. "And those bundles  
are?..."

"You can hardly climb back into your own stinking rags. I'll ask  
Kaasan to wash what's left of them for you."

Hiei took the two neatly folded packets of clothing, one pale  
yellow, the other a heathered gray. He darted a look up at  
Kurama. "Yours?"

"Be thankful I'm a clothes horse. I've always got spares."

"They'll swim on us."

"Turn back the cuffs. Make sure she drinks the whole glass. And  
you'll find that in about thirty seconds you will be recovered  
enough to heat up the bathwater. Take your time. As you may  
have heard, Kaasan's making tea."

Grunting, Hiei shut the door.

By the time Hiei and the girl emerged, slightly pink and wearing  
Kurama's spare sweats, the tea was waiting.  
The girl did clean up rather well, showing a uniquely American  
brand of fierce beauty. She had neatly rolled up the hem and  
cuffs of her yellow outfit; Hiei's cuffs were carelessly shoved  
past his elbows. The oversized pastel-tinted clothing made them  
both look about fourteen, but Kurama guessed the girl was  
somewhat older than Kuwabara's sister Shizuru, probably early to  
mid-20s.

It occurred to him that he did not know Hiei's age at all.

At last, there were introductions. Hiei spoke her name. An  
alien name, awkward from the fire demon's mouth: "Shayla Kidd,  
Minamino Shuuichi."

"Konnichi wa, Shuuichi-kun. Hajime-mashihte douzo youroshiku.  
Ogenki desu ka?" She gave a little bow that nearly caused her to  
topple over. Muttering that she was a stupid woman, Hiei made  
the save with one arm.

"Genki desu," Kurama replied. "Anata wa?"

"Sugoi." Her look gave Kurama every indication she knew the  
word's literal meaning: supernatural. He hastily revised his  
estimate of her.

But her hands still shook, so badly that Hiei had to hold the cup  
to get any tea in her. Finishing her meager sips of tea, she  
perched on the edge of Kurama's bed, swaying with fatigue.

Hiei would know very little of ningen females, Kurama thought,  
whereas he went to school with them every day. "She's asleep on  
her feet," he said, so softly only Hiei could pick up his words.  
"We've got a guest room. Kasaan said she would be happy to--"

Hiei answered in kind. "No. Here, or nowhere."

Hmmm ... Kurama shrugged. "As you wish. It's nothing to me."

It took some swift, fierce haggling (in English) for Hiei to  
convince the foreign girl to take some rest. She lay down  
grudgingly, and Hiei pulled the blankets high around her.

"And how is that gauntlet working for you?" Kurama had not only  
been busy concocting ningen medicines for Hiei's trip, he had  
also fashioned for Hiei's Dragon arm an elastic ward of nearly  
indestructible plant materials, well-woven with spells. The  
black cloth attached around Hiei's middle finger, leaving the  
palm and other fingers free, and ended mid-bicep, just covering  
the Dragon. Plus, it looked quite splendid on him.

"Fine. Easy on, easy off. Better than the wraps." Hiei gave a  
little snort. "Want me to do a testimonial?"

"I see you're quite recovered now."

"Ch." Hiei bent over the girl, listening intently. "OK," he  
said, straightening. "She's down."

Then he sat on the floor facing the bed.

Joining Hiei, Kurama lidded his eyes. "Interesting. I would  
have left the girl and gotten the bells."  
"In Japanese, and quietly. She knows some of the words, but she  
can't follow normal conversation."

"Curiouser and curiouser. Now why would you not want her to hear  
what we say?"

"Because---"

A gentle knock on the door, and Kaasan appeared with a tray of  
tuna rolls. She smiled at them both, then glanced at the girl on  
the bed. "The poor little thing. She's asleep?"

Nodding, Kurama put a finger to his lips.

"And you're certain she'll be all right?" whispered Kaasan.

"Yes."

"She's American," added Hiei, as if no further explanation was  
needed.

"Well then. Here you are." Kaasan deposited the tray on  
Kurama's desk.

"Arigatou gozaimasu," mouthed Kurama.

"You look hungry," Kaasan whispered to Hiei. "And far, far too  
young for such things to be happening." She reached for his  
carelessly-rumpled sleeve.

Kurama sat at attention, ready to protect his mother if needed.  
But Hiei held still for it, then actually put out his other arm  
for Kaasan to shorten the sleeve with careful, patient folds.

"All done. Please eat a lot." Kaasan beamed down at Hiei.

"Kaasan," Hiei replied. "It's too good of you. I don't deserve  
this."

I should say not, thought Kurama, the edges of his mouth  
twitching in merriment.

"Not at all," said Kaasan. "Shuuichi told me what happened to  
the two of you. What a strange and awful thing to occur! Now  
please don't hold back; I'll bring more food when she's awake."  
They waited for the door to close and for Kaasan's footsteps to  
recede.

Setting aside two of the maki pieces, Hiei dumped a sizeable hunk  
of wasabi into the little oblong side plate and poured soy sauce  
over it.

Hiei, wondered Kurama; Setting aside two pieces of sushi? For  
later? Or---For the girl?

Hiei had the metabolism of a hummingbird. If he'd burnt off so  
much of his ki that he could not even maintain his body heat, he  
would be ravenous.

What was it, then? Politeness? From Hiei? Kurama was about to  
assure Hiei that Kaasan would consider it a sacred duty to feed  
hungry guests all they wanted. He decided to keep his mouth shut  
and observe.

Bolting all but the two reserved pieces, Hiei flashed Kurama a  
suspicious glance. "What did you tell your mother?"

Kurama shrugged. "That you'd been trapped in a meat locker down  
by the docks."

"Dolt."

"Forgive me if my quick wit abandons me when one of my friends  
is---hurt."

"I'm not injured."

"It was the best I could do on short notice."

"Your mother is not stupid. She knows you're lying through your  
teeth; she just doesn't want to embarrass you in front of your  
friend."

"The way I just embarrassed her? Point taken."

"Ch. You don't even know how fortunate you are." Hiei finished  
his maki and gulped the remainder of the girl's tea.

"Well." Kurama changed the subject. "I trust you had a pleasant  
journey to America? Or at the very least, an interesting one."

"How long will that horrible drink of yours keep me going?"

"A couple of hours---provided you avoid any actual combat."  
Was that Hiei's laugh? It was. "Good enough." Hiei quickly  
checked on the girl, then turned back to Kurama. "You'll be  
gratified to know that all your nostrums work perfectly. I used  
most of the ningen ones on her."

"What happened?"

"Something venomous got her."

"Maybe you'd better start from the beginning."

"When the others get here. I'm not repeating the same story  
all night. But the thing that attacked her, I've never seen one  
like it. Strictly American. It was called a Chu... a Chupa..."

The bundle on the bed spoke in a muffled voice. "El Chu-pa-ca-  
bra. Means 'goatsucker' in Spanish. Spanish is a ningen  
language, Hiei. I wouldn't expect you to know that."

Hiei's lips twitched as he glanced at the bed. "Were you aware  
that Kurama speaks excellent English?"

"Good. Maybe he can teach you some."

Kurama widened his eyes at Hiei. "Is she always like this?"

Hiei shook his head. "Worse."

The mound of covers rose. The girl's head popped out. She  
blinked. "Wait a minute. This is Kurama? The Kurama? The  
Kurama who---"

"Don't," said Hiei.

So, mused Kurama. He's told her nothing. Nothing about the  
intricacies of Makai, nothing about gratitude or promises or  
making a careless statement about owing your life to someone.  
Interesting indeed.

"Kurama-san." She performed a pretty little bow, still kneeling  
on the bed, her forehead touching the bedclothes. "I owe you---"

"Urusai," Hiei spat.

"Sincere thanks," she finished.

There was a brief silence. Whether it was by sheer luck that the  
girl had dodged the bullet of giving Kurama any claim to her  
life, or she knew more than Hiei seemed to think she did, Kurama  
could not tell.  
"Here." Hiei snatched up the plate with the remaining tuna roll  
and shoved it at her. "I saved this."

She plucked up a piece and dunked it into the side dish. Before  
Kurama could speak a warning---the sauce was almost all  
wasabi---she popped it into her mouth, uttering a little mew of  
pleasure.

"I said she was tougher than she looks," murmured Hiei.

"It's all right, Shay-san," Kurama said, when she had finished  
the second piece. "Kaasan will bring more food."

Hiei snorted, switching to English. "She doesn't eat, this one."

The girl matched his snort. "Since when have you let me?"

"I watch you at breakfast. I'm nowhere near you and you leave  
half your plate."

"Kurama-san, if I pass out, please thank your mother for the  
food." Closing her eyes, the girl leaned back against the wall.  
"I feel like my head's floating two feet above my body."

"Jet lag," smirked Hiei.

Tonics notwithstanding, Kurama knew both of them would probably  
crash from fatigue, and fairly soon. "I think we should call the  
others," he said. "That is, if Hiei intends to fill them in."

Hiei turned to the girl. "What about it? Are you up to meeting  
them?"

"Your teammates? Naturally. And they'll be just as eager to  
meet the winner of the All-Southwest Drowned Rat Competition."

"Stupid woman."

Her eyes flashed. "O-ma-e," she growled.

"Temee!" Hiei snarled.

"Baka mamono!"

"Urusai!"

"Shinee!"

It took Kurama an eyeblink or two to realize they were playing.

"At least let me wash my face," she protested. Hiei leapt to  
assist her as she made her rather wobbly way to the door.

Kurama looked at the girl. He looked at Hiei. Kurama calculated  
the date on which Hiei had left for America and the way he  
behaved toward the girl, and she toward him. He reached an  
interesting conclusion, but kept his own council.

It would prove fascinating to get the girl alone. Right now,  
Hiei couldn't be pried off her with a crowbar. But later, any  
number of opportunities would present themselves.

Kurama turned to Hiei. "I now have your weakness."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's women. You allowed my mother to---"

"Keh. She's a mother. And if she raised you, she must have  
powers that make Kokuryuuha seem tame."

At last, the girl returned from her preening. And it wasn't long  
after that they could hear the muffled sounds of the other two  
boys, arriving downstairs.

But it was Kuwabara's voice that soared up to them, a growl that  
blossomed into an unbelieving squeal:

"Hiei's back? And he brought a girl?"

-30-

(To be continued next week!)


	10. IB Ch 10: Boundary

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 10, Boundary  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T

Summary: 'Genkai' means boundary---but it is sanctuary or trap?

Author's notes: I come from a background where A/N are unheard  
of, but I've been asked to post a glossary of some of the  
Japanese terms. Feel free to ask more via PM.

It has also been graciously pointed out to me that some people  
think the novel is finished at 9 chapters (probably because I  
logged it as 'complete,' having finished the draft, and I wanted  
to reassure people that this isn't going to run out in the middle  
of the action). I'm still learning the ins and outs of this  
site.

Idiot Beloved has 28 chapters AND a Coda. It ain't over till  
then!

I also have about ten completed sidefics, most of which can't be  
posted until IB has been read---too many spoilers. Thank you,  
everyone, who has read and enjoyed this so far!

Miko: Priestesses who wear hakama, those wide-legged red trousers  
Baka onna: Stupid woman  
Jaki: tiny demons often used as messengers  
Ki: spirit energy  
Minna: everyone  
Ningen: human

Idiot Beloved Ch 10: Boundary  
by  
Kenshin

The sonic boom of testing at White Sands Missile Range can shake  
the ground for miles.

But inside the long cool house that thrusts over solid cliffs,  
not a sound penetrates.

One of the rooms overlooks the glittering gypsum sea of White  
Sands itself, a wall of windows slicing the dark.

The man-shaped creature sitting there did not even glance out the  
windows. With his white skin and long white braid, the only  
break in color came from the red of his tie, and the scarlet  
hakama of the miko at his feet.

Behind him was an array of objects on sleek black shelves,  
including a black obsidian globe on a silver stand.

In front of him hovered four of his minions. Three, despite the  
expensive cut of their gray suits, had the stolid, warty heads of  
garden-variety toads.

The fourth was human, a man in his mid-30s, with the sleek frame  
of a swimmer and the high-speed movements of an overworked office  
manager. His first name was John. If he had a last name, his  
lord never used it.

White Sands Serpent nodded. "Speak."

John inclined his head. "What will you do now? You've lost  
her."

"I haven't lost her!" The Serpent shot to his feet; the room  
temperature plummeted until John's breath steamed.

The miko put a hand over her mouth, a secretive gesture, blocking  
her expression.

"I never lose anything." The Serpent subsided to the black  
leather armchair. "And there is more information coming from my  
network each day." Without turning his head, he pulled a jar  
from the shelves. Inside the jar, suspended in pale, unhealthy-  
looking liquid, lay a little creature, no larger than a man's  
hand. It floated like a miniature gargoyle in its own ocean.

The miko uncovered her mouth. "Jaki in a bottle," she giggled.  
"Those poor, poor bulls." She reached toward the jar, but the  
Serpent put it back on the shelf. Pouting, she slid both arms  
around his knees.

"Don't, Miss---" began John.

"Ignore her." The Serpent waved an imperious hand. "She's a  
fool."  
Her face showed not a flicker of expression, but the miko let her  
arms fall to her sides.

"You still don't have the other girl's exact location," reminded  
John.

"I can get it soon enough."

"And she seems to have a protector."

"The little fire demon? That one is inconsequential. When the  
time comes I will deal with him. For now, liquidate the border  
infiltrators." At their lord's nod, the toad attendants slipped  
from the room.

John took a calculator from his pocket and tapped the keys.  
Frowning, he addressed the Serpent. "All of them? That's a lot  
of footsoldiers to destroy at a shot."

"Worthless, every one. Except as a source of securing funds and  
low-grade information." Sighing, the Serpent shook his head.  
"It's bad practice to hold on to useless things. I can't even  
feed off their energy."

John lowered his voice. "Be careful not to drain this one too  
quickly."

"Be careful not to overstep your authority, human." Lazily  
undoing a single hair from his braid, The Serpent flicked it like  
a whip; a whirl of snow danced about the man's head.

"My lord." Bowing deeply, the human male backed out of the room.

The miko was alone with the Serpent. He reached down and brushed  
snowflakes from her shoulders.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Coward. On the plane, she had called him a coward.

Hiei's firebird wasn't looking at him. She refused to look at  
him. She was looking at everyone else, laughing with everyone  
else, the conversation flying around them in a dizzying mix of  
English, Japanese, and---was that a French term?

Urameshi and Kuwabara were outdoing themselves in vying for her  
attention. Kurama was quieter, but laughing as well.

Hiei knew that telling them would be like plunging into an icy  
lake.

If I had an opening, he thought. She won't give me one. But  
Kuwabara had: Hiei's got a girl.

Rising, Hiei pushed past Urameshi and Kuwabara to stand behind  
her chair. "Minna!" he said, in the voice that usually made  
larger enemies pay attention, and smaller ones die of fright.

Everyone was looking at him. Except her.

He switched to English. "Not just girl, Kuwabara. Wife."

An explosion of chatter, as he had feared; utter shock, as he had  
also predicted. He winced, but the waters were breached; no  
going back now. He held up a hand, cutting short their period of  
adjustment.

"And there is trouble. All very interesting, what Americans eat  
for breakfast. But we have bad situation."

"I'll say." Urameshi had switched to Japanese. "I don't see a  
ring on either of you."

"Ring comes later. Now comes plan." He gazed down at the top of  
her head. She still hadn't looked at him.

"Yuusuke-kun is correct," she said, in her careful, exquisite  
Japanese. "No ring. You can dump me at the nearest postal  
drop."

Kurama was still laughing.

"Stupid woman," he sighed. But she angled her head up to his and  
gave him the glint of her eyes at last; the glance hummed in his  
bones.

"Forget about what Americans eat for breakfast." Kuwabara  
scrambled to his feet. "What kind of car does she drive?"

"Very old Jeep that makes horrible noises." Hiei rolled his  
eyes, and went out in the hall.

Almost instantly he felt a bulky, noisy ki behind him. He did  
not turn. "Kuwabara, I'm going to the bathroom. Is it your  
intent to follow me?"

"Just tell me one thing."

"What?" With a long-suffering sigh, he faced Kuwabara. The  
younger boy towered over him. An outsider might have read threat  
in his posture, but Hiei knew better.

"Is this for real, Shrimpboat? I mean, is that how it went? You  
take one look at her and---" His hand cut the air in an  
expansive gesture.

"And." Hiei allowed a smile. "You tell me."

From Kurama's room came a rising peal of laughter.

Kuwabara drew his brows together; Hiei could almost see Yukina  
reflected in those brown eyes. The taller boy nodded, then  
grunted by way of assent.

"Good," said Hiei. "Then go back and make sure Urameshi doesn't  
grope her while I'm gone."

"Gotcha, Shorty."

When Hiei returned, Kuwabara was standing in back of Shay-san's  
chair as if he had invented her, and Urameshi was grilling her  
about Hollywood.

Hiei slid to the floor next to Kurama, who leaned in so that only  
Hiei could hear. "Dear me. They are carrying on a bit."

"Ch."

"They're still only boys after all, and genuinely excited to meet  
an American girl." The corners of Kurama's mouth twitched  
upward. "Especially one who---belongs---to a friend."

"Ch."

"Don't worry. She's so tired she won't remember any of it."

Oh, no, kitsune, Hiei thought. She'll remember every word. I'm  
counting on it.

And it was Hiei who was tired. Infusions of someone else's  
spirit energy were all very well for emergency situations, but  
they tended to leave you feeling wired, oddly keyed up, as if  
jaki were hammering your heartstrings.

Fatigue toxins were building up in Hiei's body faster than he  
could burn them off. He could not afford to wait. Rising, he  
shook the pins and needles from his legs. "Time to see Genkai."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Despite some initial grumbling, Genkai had installed the girl in  
a small inner room of the temple.

His firebird was all but asleep on her feet as they reached their  
destination, Hiei supporting her for the last few steps to the  
temple.

"She okay?" Kuwabara murmured.

"Ask Kurama." Hiei snorted. "We were stuck in a 'meat locker'."

Kurama stifled a cough, while Urameshi noisily assured him they  
would be waiting when he "finished up with the old hag back  
there."

The inner room was dark and silent, reminding Hiei uncomfortably  
of the White Serpent Shrine in Arizona. There was a roll of  
bedding already in place.

The girl headed straight toward the bedding, and sank into a  
graceful puddle onto the floor. "Five minutes," she murmured,  
and, like a marionette with its strings cut, went limp.

Outside, Hiei could hear the revelries begin.

He would not, he told himself, hover anxiously as the old reiki  
master examined the girl. Jamming his hands into the pockets of  
the borrowed garments, Hiei waited in rigid silence. This girl  
had been through what was, even for him, a harrowing physical  
experience. He thought he could still detect certain vital  
signs, but now he wasn't sure.

At last, Genkai turned to him with a lift of one eyebrow. "Had  
ourselves a little adventure, have we?"

"Is she---"

"Out like a light."

Hiei opened his mouth to inquire further, but Genkai beat him to  
the punch.

"Don't worry. Everything seems to be as nature intended."

From the other room came a gust of laughter like a cheering  
section. The scent of cheap sake like the pale blood of  
serpents.

"Go on." Genkai jerked her head. "Join your idiot friends...  
I'll watch her. You babysit them."

"Genkai-shihan---"

"Just clean up the puke when those morons are done partying."  
Genkai turned her back on him; Hiei went to join the others.

First, he assured them the girl was sleeping, nothing more.  
Next, of course, the others wanted to hear every detail of his  
battles with the Chupa-something and the bulls and the oni. He  
edited some things heavily, left out others altogether. There  
was more crucial information to come.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Shayla Kidd, late of America, awoke to the tang of cigarette  
smoke.

Ronni had quit smoking two years ago, after Creepazoid Number  
Nine. Shayla turned her head toward the scent.

That person, seated on the floor a few yards from her bedding,  
was far too small to be Ronni.

Oh.

She remembered a man whose eyes were the color of garnets and  
whose voice sent electric shocks down her spine. A man who  
operated at breathtaking speeds. Swords and poison. The charge  
of the bulls. A white whip surging from beneath the earth.

She remembered an explosion in midair, then flickering over the  
ocean, the lifegiving warmth of his body gradually fading into a  
long cold darkness in which the white whip sought to find her,  
and failed.

She remembered praying over and over, "Thy will be done."

And at last the jolt of dry land, the noise and confusion that  
followed.

Her head ached. Outside, coming from another room, she heard  
voices. Soft, blurred, speaking far too rapidly to tell what was  
being said.

Then the person with the cigarette addressed her, slow and  
distinct enough to understand:

"Go back to sleep, child. You're safe here."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Inevitably, the talk turned back to her---to Hiei's firebird. It  
was Kuwabara, in fact, asking if she was "any good with that  
bokken."

Hiei was some time in answering. "I don't know. Never saw her  
use it."

Urameshi grabbed again for the sake.

"Stop that," Hiei snapped.

"Hey, how often does a chance like this come along?" Urameshi  
shot him a wicked grin. "Drinking to an ol' friend's, er,  
somethin' or other."

"Speaking of old." Hiei retrieved the bottle. "In this room,  
I'm the only one old enough to---"

"What---there's a legal drinking age in MAKAI?" Urameshi  
sputtered with laughter, then tossed back another drink.

"And I am not cleaning up after you," added Hiei.

"Hey, guys," interrupted Kuwabara, putting his drink on the  
floor. "Shorty's right. We should'n be doin' this."

"Which part?" snickered Urameshi. "Drinkin'? Pukin'? Or givin'  
Hiei crap?"

Hiei snorted, flicking a glance at Kuwabara. "Thanks, Moron."

"Don' mention it, Shrimp."

Urameshi drained his sake and slopped more into Hiei's cup, a  
large measure of it sloshing onto the floor.

Kurama silently moved out of reach of the spreading stain.

"This girl," began Hiei. "I think she's unusual. Ningen  
females---they complain a lot, don't they?"

"A lot?" Urameshi sprayed sake and swatted Kuwabara. "Man! Are  
you in for a surprise."

Kuwabara nodded his agreement, giggling. "I could tell you  
stories 'bout my sister that'd make your hair lie flat."

"This one doesn't complain," Hiei said, thoughtfully. "Not once.  
Not even when that Chupa thing attacked her."

"She's savin' it till she knows you better." Urameshi elbowed  
Kuwabara. "Bet she wakes up tomorrow and runs screaming for her  
Mommy."

"She doesn't have one," Hiei said.

"Nearest airport, then," amended Urameshi.

Hiei shook his head.

"Urameshi's right!" Kuwabara pointed at Hiei. "Once she gets a  
good look at you in th' light of day--"

"Already has. She won't run. Of that I'm certain."

"Oi, Kurama!" Urameshi prodded the fox-boy with one toe. "Have  
another drink!"

But Kurama wasn't drinking any more than Hiei was. And he hadn't  
uttered three words since coming to the temple. He sat with his  
arms around his knees, staring into the single guttering candle  
that served to light the room.

It was now or never.

Hiei glanced at the overfilled cup near his elbow. Then he  
glanced at the kitsune. "Kurama's guessed this, I think."

Kurama sat like a statue, face studiously veiled.

"But the rest of you will find out sooner or later." He took a  
breath and plunged a second time into the icy lake. "She's  
expecting."

The word hung in the candlelit room.

"Ex--ex--pect---?" Kuwabara nearly fell over laughing. His sake  
cup tipped, rolled in an arc to fetch up near Kurama, who  
absently righted it again. Kuwabara struggled to one knee,  
guffawing into his hand. "Whose is it?"

Hiei shot him a dismembering glare. "Whose do you think, idiot?"

Urameshi snorted. Raising one hand, he cocked a finger at Hiei.  
"Shotgun wedding?"

Hiei leapt to his feet and bolted for the other room.

"Hey!" Urameshi called after him. "Come back, man, can't you  
take a joke?"

Stopping in the doorway, Hiei noted that Genkai was still sitting  
guard. In the dark he saw her nod once.

"Don't worry," she said. "Your little mongrel bastard's fine,  
and so is its dam."

He heard the gentle tick of his firebird's breathing. In the  
other room, someone dropped a cup, resulting in ragged applause.  
"I'm the bastard," he informed Genkai. "But this one won't be."

Returning to the other room, Hiei settled down next to his  
untouched sake and looked at each boy in turn. "All right. Get  
it out of your system. Say anything you like to me, here and  
now. Keep your voices down. And if you so much as whisper a  
single word to her, Urameshi---" Because he knew Kuwabara, for  
all his stupidity, would not--- "then rest assured I will rip  
your head off and feed it to your neck."

"Great!" Urameshi lifted his cup and clashed it with Kuwabara's  
in a toast. "Let th' torment begin!"

They went at it for a while, mostly crude, blatant attempts at  
humor concerning Hiei's speed and accuracy.

Hiei sighed, telling himself: What else did you expect? They're  
what---fourteen, going on nine? Except for the kitsune...

Kurama had not joined in; Hiei could see him thinking.

About what? The girl? None of his business. The un-stolen  
bells? Ditto.

As if reading Hiei's thoughts, Kurama turned and met his gaze.  
Something flickered in the leaf-colored eyes, and was just as  
quickly gone.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It was late. The others had departed at last, dragged out by  
Kurama. Hiei stood gazing at the sleeping girl.

He was not a fool. Exhausted, but not a fool. His life had just  
turned upside-down.

The soft warble of a nightthroat floated in through the partly-  
opened screen. And his firebird pushed back the bedding and sat  
up, regarding him. Worlds shifted beneath his feet.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

She yawned. "Well, now that I'm up, entertain me."

Tired as he was, he settled against her and raised his ki a bit.  
"Warm enough?"

"Perfect." She yawned again, rotated her shoulders until they  
crackled. "That lady who was here---where did she go?"

"Another room." In the dark, he counted his heartbeats.

"Soo." She yawned a third time. "You're the only one of your  
gang who's not in junior high?"

This was what he had been waiting for. "Tell me what you think  
of them."

"You'd make a cute boy band."

"Talk sense, woman."

"Can't. My brain doesn't function across eight time zones and  
two near-death experiences."

"Oh, yes it does."

"Fine," she huffed. "You asked for it. I'm leaving you for  
Kuwabara."

"He's---attached."

"Oh. Well, far be it from me to become a homewrecker. Yuusuke,  
then. He's practically an American."

"Baka onna, same for him. I meant not what you wanted to do with  
them. What you think of them."

"Why?"

"Because you know things."

"You mean, this is a test?"  
"H'n."

"And I didn't even study." She rolled onto her side, clearly  
measuring what she would say. "Kuwabara is... that big goof is a  
knight. That one will fight when there's nothing left to fight  
with, and beyond. And unlike you, Three-eyes, he wears his heart  
on his sleeve."

She nailed it, Hiei thought. "Urameshi?" he prodded.

"Team leader. Obvious. Because he has a pure spirit. Because  
he sees things in people no one else sees."

Two for two, he thought, watching her.

The winged brows puckered. "Kurama might be---"

"Kurama's unattached, you'll be pleased to note."

She didn't answer for so long he wondered whether she'd fallen  
asleep again.

"Kurama's---I don't want to say duplicitous, exactly. Dual-  
natured. There's a lot more to him than some schoolboy with rock  
star hair."

And that's three, Hiei concluded. "How is it you know these  
things?"

"I've always known. Part of it's simple cold reading."

Hiei wondered what that was, decided to put off asking.

"But there's something else, some other element... I'm Ronni's  
Creep-o-Meter, remember? Just don't ask me how, because I  
couldn't tell you."

And don't ask me how I know there is a battle coming, Hiei  
reflected, or why I am afraid of it.

She pushed herself upright, hugging her knees to her chest.

"And me?" he asked. "What of me?" Tomorrow, they would both be  
rested. A little thrill pulsed at the base of his throat.

"Apart from the towering arrogance?"  
"I meant---"

"I know what you meant." The nightthroat burst into its mournful  
song again. She pulled the blanket up around her shoulders.  
"You know those people who glance at a page and remember  
everything on it? You're like that in the physical sense."

"I'm like that in the other sense too."

"Show-off."

"Go to sleep, woman."

"You're the one who woke me up. You talk for a change."

"You know how I do my talking."

With a langorous little wriggle, she settled back, gazing up at  
him. The faint light in the room seemed to fly to her gumdrop  
eyes. "I've forgotten. You'll have to show me again."

He blinked, and instead of her, saw Yuusuke, Kuwabara, Kurama,  
all of them thrown into sharp relief, reaching out to him, moving  
past him, then gone.

Or maybe he was the one moving, they standing still.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The moon was gloriously full. Puffs of chill breath hung on the  
air, and a nightthroat performed its ghostly aria as the three  
remaining members of Team Urameshi walked away from the temple.

Pausing a moment to sip the irony of the little bird's song,  
Kurama wondered if the other two were aware of the momentous  
shift that had just taken place.

It was likely that Kuwabara sensed something, even through the  
sake. Yuusuke seemed to regard the incident as little more than  
an excuse to tease Hiei.

Am I the only one who knows? Kurama tilted his head up. The  
moon flung her pitiless light across their shoulders. Kurama  
spoke for the first time since leaving the temple. "Gentlemen,  
we just lost Hiei."

Yuusuke snorted. "Ahh, c'm on, Kurama. He'll snap out of it."

"Perhaps not. I don't believe Hiei has ever before looked at a  
female as anything other than an enemy or an ally. Now..." He  
shrugged. "You'll recall those ladies in the lobby of the hotel.  
The one we stayed in during the Dark Tournament."

"Yeah," laughed Yuusuke. "That babe with the low-cut gown and  
the diamond chandeliers, for one."

"You make my point for me."

"Whadaya talkin' about, Kurama?" Yuusuke walked backward,  
staring at Kurama with eyes that still glittered of sake.

"You noticed that lady. Kuwabara noticed. Hiei never so much as  
glanced. Not one of those beautiful, expensive ningen females in  
the hotel---and not Koto, not Juri."

"Juri was sorta cute," said Yuusuke. "For a girl with a tail."

"And Ruka---she was just an obstacle to him. I doubt Hiei even  
realized she was nine-tenths naked."

"I did."

"Again, you make my point."

Kuwabara paused, doubling over, hands on his knees. "Should we  
throw up here or save it for later?"

"Hold it until we get to that patch of stillbreath," advised  
Kurama. "They could use the nutrients."

Yuusuke jumped onto a low stone wall, but sake had made his  
balance shaky and he leapt down again. Nothing, however, seemed  
to be able to shake his high spirits. "Hey, it'll be fun. We  
can sit around and bitch about our women."

"Speak for yourself, Urameshi," growled Kuwabara. "My Yukina's  
perfect."

Yuusuke laughed. "Shut up and look at the moon."

-30-

(To be continued next week!)


	11. IB Ch 11: You'll Do Yourself An Injury!

Please read the Disclaimer in Chap. One!

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 11, "You'll Do Yourself An Injury!"  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T

Summary: A highly unusual conversation sparks fires.

Note: This was a long chapter, which is why I didn't update two chaps at a shot, which is my usual 'style.' (Let's hope I remember the formatting issues) :p Thanks to everyone who's reading and enjoying this! I really appreciate your reviews. And SOMEONE'S question will be answered in this chapter. 

Idiot Beloved Ch 11: "You'll Do Yourself an Injury!"  
by  
Kenshin

Kurama sped into the forest, plucking a rose from his hair,  
leaving Yuusuke and Kuwabara far behind.

Could this, he wondered, be the intruder again? But that one had  
no readable ki to speak of, and this---

It sparkled in a blaze of stars, flew at him like a thousand  
swords, struck his skin with the deep scent of iron. Its source  
was easy to pinpoint. That pine tree, the one with the thick  
trunk, next to the tallest oak.

Where was the girl? That night at the temple, among other  
things, it had been decided that she was out of immediate danger,  
and they could take their time analyzing what had happened to  
her; Hiei had undoubtedly lost her pursuers in his desperate  
flight across the ocean. And the intruder Kurama had glimpsed  
while Hiei was gone could have been a fluke, or an illusion.

But now, this aura, stranger and more powerful than any Kurama  
had ever sensed. He hurtled forward and---

---fetched up against the trunk and---

"Come up if you like."

Kurama snapped to attention. That was Hiei's voice, but that was  
most certainly not Hiei's spirit energy.

Peering into the tree, Kurama spotted Hiei's familiar figure.  
Same bi-colored hair, same black pants and black sleeveless  
shirt, same gauntlet, same headband. Standing against the trunk  
of a tree, Hiei peered down at Kurama in return.

But nothing else was the same.

Mantled with black and blue, glittering with multi-hued diamonds,  
Hiei's aura hit the edge of Kurama's skin like a bucket of acid.  
It filled the clearing, pressed against his nerves.

Oh, my, thought Kurama. This is... interesting.

Hiei called again. Kurama slid the rose back in his hair.

"Hiei! I nearly shredded you with the Whip. What on earth---"

"Is there a God above gods?"

Kurama blinked. "I thought you said is there a God above gods."

"You're an acolyte of Inari, aren't you? Is it possible there is  
a God above---"

"Excuse me." Not trusting himself in the same tree, Kurama  
selected a branch of the adjacent oak that would allow him to  
look down at Hiei, and settled in. "You are Hiei, aren't you?"

"Ch." Hiei was swathed in an ever-shifting pattern of diamonds.  
"Answer my question."

"Hiei, what's the matter with you?"

"Everything. Nothing."

Raising a hand, slitting his eyes against that unbearable aura,  
Kurama tried to study the fire demon. He could not look for  
long.

After leaving the temple that night, Kurama had thought: maybe I  
overstated the case that we'd lost Team Member Hiei. Now, he  
wondered if he hadn't understated it.

"Something's wrong. This sort of aura is unusual, even for you."

Hiei turned his head away. "It shows?"

"You'll do yourself an injury." Kurama paused, adjusting himself  
to what he hoped would prove a more comfortable position. "Or at  
the very least, ignite that tree."

"It's not that bad." Hiei shifted, his side pressed against the  
trunk, his back to Kurama. "Is it?"

"There are aura fighters who would kill for what you're wreathed  
in now."

"They don't want this. Trust me."

Probably not, thought Kurama; standing this close to it was  
distsurbing enough without actually being inside it. It bent his  
skin, twisted his thoughts, made him dizzy. "What happened?"

"Since the night we got back? Nothing."

Kurama allowed the meaning to sink in. "Aha." The physical  
discomfort abated just a touch. He took a breath, chuckled.  
"Thrown you over already, has she?"

"Baka. It was my idea."

"I see. You've thrown her over."

"No, you don't see." The ki seared for an instant. "Until the  
priest says it's all right---"

"Hiei, please. This is Kurama you're speaking to. Isn't that a  
bit like locking the gate after the oni get through?"

"I read about certain things. I made a decision. Tachimono."

Tachimono, thought Kurama: something abstained from. "So you  
say. What I don't see is why you would turn off the faucet when  
the water's free."

"I talk theology, you turn it to the gutter."

"Sorry. If you want to study comparative religions, best consult  
a man of the cloth."

"Perhaps I will."

"Hiei. Have you seen yourself? I state the obvious."

Hiei kicked at the tree. "I have said I will do a thing and so I  
will do it."

"The girl---has she been attacked again?"

"No. But Genkai has got hold of my firebird. Testing her,  
training her, they don't tell me what. All I know is she leaves  
early morning with Genkai and comes back late at night in a  
bucket."

Hiei shifted position again, taking another quarter-turn. Each  
flex of his muscles was like razor blades against the skin.

The wind sifted sunlight onto Kurama's shoulders. From a great  
distance, a crow called.

Kurama had known, ever since they'd stolen the Artifacts, that  
there was something a bit off with Hiei. Perhaps this was the  
reason.

Hiei slid down to straddle the branch. "Kurama, how does ...  
what did Youko do when..." He paused for a breath. "When he  
wanted to resist temptation."

Kurama watched the aura bank and flare. Clearly, Hiei was  
fighting its effects. What to do?

Meeting Hiei had been sheer relief---someone in Ningenkai, not an  
enemy, who knew Kurama for who he was. Who fought well alongside  
him. A friend.

Hiei's secretive nature was a given. It was Yuusuke, not the  
fire demon himself, who told Kurama that Hiei had a sister.

Well, thought Kurama, My secretive friend, what now? Now that  
you literally wear your heart on your sleeve? Okay, okay, okay,  
certain possibilities present themselves. All no doubt resulting  
in death threats. Still. He is so much fun to tease.

A pained smile licked Kurama's lips. "Youko never met a  
temptation worth resisting."

"Wonderful. And Minamino Shuuichi?"

Kurama was not insensible to the posturings that went on around  
Minamino Shuuichi at school: the locker room talk of cold  
showers, self-gratification and worse---it was just that no one  
had stirred him that way. Perhaps Maya. Perhaps he might still  
harbor some regrets on that front.

But Maya had been instrumental in meeting Hiei.

Kurama shook his head. "Shuuichi hasn't yet encountered that  
particular problem."

"Equally helpful."

"Still. There are things one can do."

"I'm not taking another woman. This is for her. Promised to  
her. Now. Back to God---"

"Back to you. Come now, Hiei, think of all I'm doing for you,  
despite your horrendous ki. Try to be just a little more  
cooperative."

"Why? Isn't that precious intellect of yours up to the task of  
discussing theology?"

The conversation had taken on a surreal tone, whether by its very  
nature, or Hiei's blazing ki. "Now, now. You just lie back and  
listen to Doctor Kurama. Exactly how old are you?"

"What do you care?"

"And what do you know of fire demons?"

"Is this the start of a different lecture?"

"No. It's a simple question. How can I frame an answer if you  
won't let me ask the question?"

"Doesn't the great Youko know? In all his centuries of  
learning?"

Kurama snickered. "Fire demons have nothing worth stealing."

"I know only of myself." Hiei flicked a hard, measuring glance  
Kurama's way. "Why?"

Ah, well, thought Kurama. Who wants to live forever? "And what  
takes place when fire demons reach, er, mating age?"

The blue-hot ki blazed. "What business is this of yours?"

Kurama winced. "You did ask. And I am trying to help. There  
are other things. Things that don't involve a woman."

"Make sense, kitsune."

"There can be relief in..." Kurama caught a breath. Wait, wait:  
Can't think straight. This aura---like being drugged...

Hiei twisted his head up in an owlish fashion to meet Kurama's  
gaze. "In what?"

Oh, Inari,. Kurama thought, He really doesn't know anything.  
Would this be the definition of irony? One of us is in over his  
head.

"Look," said Hiei, patiently for him. "If I don't control this  
now---" He reached down the front of his shirt, brought out a  
necklace of polished wooden beads. There was a cross attached.  
"You know what this is?"

Kurama had seen such things before. "It's a Rosary."

"She gave it to me. I try saying it. Then I try saying it in  
Latin. It works for ten minutes. Then---" He turned to hide  
his face in the trunk of the tree.

"Try cold showers."

"Same ten minutes," came the muffled reply. "I'm burning."

"Try burning that tree."

"All I know is," Hiei repeated, "if I don't get this under  
control now---"

"Ah, yes. The sticking point of timing," Kurama agreed,  
struggling for once to perform a calculation. 'The little  
hanyou,' as Hiei referred to it. When they brought the girl back  
to Genkai's, Kuwabara had jokingly asked: Whose is it?

Whose indeed? Hiei had returned to Japan less than a week after  
leaving for America. So how could he know about the girl's  
condition? At such an early stage a doctor might not be able to  
tell. Kurama certainly could not.

A swirl of the painful aura made Kurama dizzy. Can't think,  
can't think! What to say? Supposing 'the little hanyou' was not  
Hiei's? He would then be making a terrible mistake---

Hiei broke into Kurama's thoughts. "And what happens later, when  
she gets big and can't stand to look at me? What do I do then?  
It's now or never."

There, suggested by the patient himself. Dangerous ground,  
but--- "It could be never. If you wished."

Turning his back to the tree again, Hiei muttered, "I'm stupid  
today. Explain to me. Use little words."

"This--- ahem. This child. It was unintended?"

The wind shifted, playing a pattern of light and dark against  
Hiei's burning ki. "Whatever you're thinking, whatever you  
believe you know about it, you're wrong. And that's none of your  
business besides."

"You keep saying it's none of my business, yet you do insist on  
bringing it up, over and over. Answer the question. Is that  
what you set out to do? Create a little hanyou?"

Hiei shrugged. "Actions have consequences."

"Sometimes it's possible to remove the consequences."

"What are you getting at?"

"This early in the game, judging from when you left for  
America---well, there are ways to make it as if it never was."

"What?"

"I mean one simple potion and there will be no more---"

"Kurama." In a flash Hiei was pressed up against him, pinioning  
Kurama to the tree, the painful ki closer than Kurama had ever  
wanted, even out of curiosity. Kurama had not seen him move, had  
not even felt the slight blur and thickening of air that preceded  
one of Hiei's leaps.

There was nothing in Hiei's face to indicate anger. The smooth  
features seemed blank, almost impassive, the voice flutelike.

Kurama had seen Hiei angry. Or thought he had. He had heard  
Hiei's rather cheerful threats to separate any given person's  
head from his body.

He had never seen Hiei like this.

Kurama glued himself to the tree trunk, hands scrabbling behind  
him for purchase; he could not have plucked the rose from his  
hair if his life depended on it.

Perhaps it did.

Hiei spoke, so softly that Kurama barely heard the words above  
the crackle of that spirit aura, "Never mention such a thing  
again."

In the distance, very faint, came Yuusuke's voice: "Oi, Kurama!"

With a blur, Hiei was gone, and Kurama realized how badly he was  
shaking. What did I say to him? What did I do to him? Couldn't  
think, couldn't think.

His legs gave out; he had to clutch at the branch. Glancing at  
his clothing, he was astonished to see there were no scorch  
marks.

As the crashing of bushes heralded Yuusuke and Kuwabara's  
arrival, he leapt down from the tree.

They burst into view, looking somewhat the worse for their  
headlong flight.

"What happened?" gasped Yuusuke, hands braced on his thighs to  
suck oxygen. "You took off like a shot."

Kurama flicked a glance into the treetops. "False alarm."

"Crap." Yuusuke crashed a fist into his palm. "And I was so  
looking forward to beating somebody up."

"Eh?" Kuwabara mopped his forehead with the back of one broad  
hand. "It's not the intruder? Then what---?"

Kurama released a breath. "Hiei's in a mood."

Relaxing, Yuusuke rolled his eyes. "Keh. Hiei's always in a  
mood."

Folding his arms, Kurama gazed at his two companions, wondering  
what was safe to tell them. Both seemed their usual selves:  
Yuusuke cheerfully combative, Kuwabara quieter, but still ready  
to roll. "This one was different."

"Different? Different how?" Yuusuke snorted. "Is he dressing  
in pastels and singing?"

"Just---different."

"I dunno," rumbled Kuwabara. "Something funny happened here."  
He narrowed his eyes at Kurama. "Did you guys have a fight?"

Yuusuke aimed a playful shot at Kuwabara's shoulder. "Hey, is  
there a creature on the planet who hasn't had a fight with Hiei?  
He snarls death threats at his morning gruel."

"Yeah, nothin' like a shrimp with a side of attitude," agreed  
Kuwabara. But his eyes focused on Kurama.

Kurama remained studiously silent.

Kuwabara went to the tree where Hiei had been sitting. Shutting  
his eyes a moment, he touched its trunk, then---"Kyaaa! What was  
that?" Violently shaking his hand, as if the tree was red-hot,  
he jerked away to gape at Kurama.

Sometimes that one's sensitivity could prove---inconvenient.

"Was it that thing again?" Kuwabara pressed. "The one we didn't  
see? The one that was at the temple like a week ago?"

Over Kurama's shoulder, a squirrel chittered. The wind lifted  
his hair, carrying to him scents of evergreen and loam.

With a rueful smile, Kurama leaned against the tree. "No.

Something twice as dangerous."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

White Sands, New Mexico, where daytime temperatures can soar to a  
searing 100 degrees and nighttime temperatures plummet to well  
below freezing.

Inside the many-windowed house, as the Serpent's power increased,  
there was neither night nor day nor blazing heat, but always a  
clinging twilight, a bluish atmosphere whispering of endless fog  
and mist, and a marrow-stealing cold where the breath steamed.

In the room wreathed in darkness with its obsidian globe on a  
silver stand, a black-clad, white-skinned entity sat and waited,  
the miko at his side.

It was not long before a human male entered and stood before his  
seated master.

"You called, my lord?" John inclined his body in a formal bow.

"Ah. Yes." The Serpent rose, stretching as if he had just  
awakened from a nap. "I have something you ought to see."  
Snapping his fingers, he waited.

From the inky corners of the room, four of his toad-minions  
surged forward. Between them they held two border infiltrators,  
one a strapping human male in his 20s, with the appearance of a  
competitive bodybuilder. Dark-skinned, dark-haired, he had  
sunglasses obscuring his eyes. The other captive was a smallish  
oni of olive-dun color with a single horn, who nevertheless  
towered over the human.

The oni was snarling and struggling, the human pale under his  
tan, frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

"I thought you had them extinguished," said John.

"You've got an excellent memory," nodded the Serpent. "All but  
two, which were saved just for this little demonstration." He  
held up a finger. "Watch."

John licked his lips, then pressed them together.

The Serpent shut his eyes. In a flash, a keening wind rose from  
nowhere, stroking his black-and-white form, swirling to pluck at  
the garments of those nearby.

He opened his eyes. His hair unbraided itself in a leisurely  
manner and fanned out around his head.

The miko began to whimper.

Two of the hairs separated from the rest, thickening, first into  
white whips, then into the form of white snakes with glittering  
white scales and white eyes. The snakes twisted their heads  
right and left, surveying their surroundings, flicking their  
white tongues, exploring.

The human captive looked at them. For the first time, he  
screamed, struggling against the toad-minions. The oni fought in  
earnest, biting and slashing. But the toad-minions held them  
fast with a soft, sticky strength that no struggles could break.

The two white snakes reacted to the struggle, aiming their heads  
at the captives. One reached lazily for the human's sunglasses,  
plucking them off in its jaws and crushing them. All the while,  
White Sands Serpent kept his arms folded, his face tranquil.

The snakes wrapped around man and oni, coil upon coil. The toad-  
minions jumped back, but one was a fraction too slow, leaving a  
withered arm on the floor.

"Oh, dear," the Serpent clucked. "Another perfectly good  
bodyguard wasted."

In a flash, both man and oni were hidden from sight by the thick  
white snakes. Their screams intensified.

Then stopped, as if cut with a knife. The miko covered her face  
with her hands.

Only the the misting of John's breath marked him as a living  
creature.

The wind died. The Serpent's hair re-braided itself. The snakes  
shrunk back into whips, and then subsided into hairs again,  
obediently knotting themselves back into the braid hanging down  
the back of White Sands Serpent.

Where oni and human had once stood, there were now only twin  
piles of ash, shimmering with a sub-zero aura.

"Yes. Your memory is excellent." Turning his head slightly  
toward John, the Serpent smiled. "I trust you will remember  
this."

Then he strode from the room, followed by toad-minions dragging  
the miko.

They left John to sink shaking to his knees, his face almost as  
white as that of his lord.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

I mastered the Kokuryuuha, thought Hiei, but I can't master this?

Rebounding from tree to tree, Hiei struggled to escape the  
burning agony, selecting the most difficult jumps, until he was  
dripping sweat. And yet the pain had not abated. If anything,  
exhausting his muscles only made him more aware of his body.  
Which made him more aware of---

Wrong approach. What did he need?

He vaulted past a small cave concealed at the base of a cliff,  
when something tugged at him. Overshooting the cave by half a  
mile, he stopped, then turned back, puzzled.

Demon ki, emanating from the cave. Flipping in mid-air to land  
in a nearby tree, Hiei glanced inside.

There were three of them, in the bright primary colors they had  
somehow evolved. Raptor-type demons. Fugitives from Makai.  
Unlike human-figured demons, such as himself or Yukina, these  
would have trouble "passing" in Ningenkai. They resembled  
dinosaurs in miniature, complete with long, restless tails and a  
wicked set of claws and teeth.

Reptilian, smallish---still larger than he---speedy, more cunning  
than oni, the raptor-types tended to land in security positions.  
They made good prison guards.

These three were huddled morosely around a small, smokeless fire.  
They were cold-blooded, Hiei recalled. Was this a cool day? He  
never took much notice of the weather.

What were they doing here? Never mind. He was burning still.

After a perfect three-point landing in front of the cave, Hiei  
straightened, then called to the raptors. "This is your lucky  
day. I'm looking for a fight, and here you are."

All three of them jerked their heads in startled response and  
shot up to defensive postures. Claws out, teeth bared, they  
stood in readiness to spring.

The red one hissed. "Back off, man. We ain't doing nothin'."

Hiei spread his arms. "Come, no sword. Hand-to-hand only.  
Three on one. Could you ask for better odds?"

"Crap!" The blue one tilted his alligator head toward the gold  
one. "Can you sense that aura?"

Gold swept his head side-to-side in what passed for a raptor nod.  
"Freaky. Plain freaky."

"I don't wanna mess with this guy," added Blue.

"Who cares what you want?" said Hiei. "You're demon in  
Ningenkai, and I don't see any green cards. It will be my  
privilege to destroy you." He leapt into their midst.

Red swiped at him with a tail---those long, clever appendages  
were like an extra arm in combat---but Hiei flipped, avoiding it  
easily. In the same movement he lashed out with his left leg and  
caught Blue on the side of the head. Blue yelped.

All three of them kept up a constant hissing. It was like  
standing next to a battery of tea kettles on the boil. His aura  
seemed to be causing them considerable pain.

Tough.

He aimed a blow at Gold's throat---one of their few truly  
vulnerable spots, if you had the speed to get past the guard of  
their teeth.

Which Hiei possessed in abundance. He connected. The little  
raptor snarled in agony and tumbled backward, clutching at its  
throat. Blue and Red scrambled to stand over it, their posture  
now one of protection.

Hiei flicked forward for the kill.

Then stopped, thought: Why am I not enjoying this?

This was nothing like the three oni back at the White Serpent  
Shrine. There, the demons had been after his own target, the  
temple bells---and possibly his firebird.

These demons were just minding their own business.

What reason do I have to fight them? Hiei wondered. Just to cool  
this burning?

The two unscathed raptors were tracking him, teeth bared,  
crouched around their injured companion, green-gold eyes wide and  
watchful.

Hiei heard the faraway sounds of traffic, a scattering of  
birdcalls. He smelt the granite of the cave, smelt their fear.

Maybe all they wanted was the mantle of stars.

"I changed my mind. I believe I will let you live."

He was positive they never saw him depart. He took a circuitous  
route back, scanning for exactly the sort of tree he wanted.

And there it was, on the verge of death, a towering spire of  
rough bark and broken branches. He slowed a bit in his approach,  
vaulted into the tree and wrapped his arms around it. Instantly,  
the tree ignited.

Flicking to another treetop, he watched it burn.

When the fire had gone out and he knew he was able to control  
himself, Hiei turned for home.

-30-

(To be continued---next week! Will this friendship survive?)


	12. IB C 12: The Agony In The Garden

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 12, The Agony In The Garden  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T

Summary: Wherein Hiei meets his 'Genkai'

A/N: Author's Note: Another fairly long chapter comes with a warning  
about strong and perhaps offensive language.

Hoping to update TWO chaps next week.

Disclaimers found in Ch. 1-3. Go look there.

Idiot Beloved Ch 12: The Agony in the Garden  
by  
Kenshin

Hiei was not nervous.

This was not like going into battle, where a case of nerves could  
work in your favor, tuning your muscles to concert pitch, raising  
your blood pressure, sharpening your reflexes, meaning the  
difference between life and death.

Nothing to be afraid of, going to church. No one had swords in  
church. People came in and knelt and mumbled nonsense and lined  
up to eat wafers and left. He had seen this on television.  
There would be no surprises.

Not nerves. But something giving a good imitation of nerves.

Of the mysteries of the Holy Trinity, Hiei had little trouble  
wrapping his mind around such; was not his friend Minamino  
Shuuichi, Kurama, and also Youko in one? As for virgin birth,  
that's what Kourime did.

But there were troubling elements to theology nonetheless.  
References to sacrifice, to redemption. Keh.

The others---Kuwabara, Urameshi, and Kurama; Genkai was nowhere  
to be seen---stood in the firebird's room, spread out in a line,  
and she was strolling up and down before them like a  
general inspecting the troops. Finally she nodded. "School  
uniforms will do just fine. In America, they wear flip-flops to  
church, but don't let me catch any of you dressing like that!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Kuwabara snapped a salute.

Kurama gave her one of his easy laughs, studiously avoiding  
Hiei's glance; it was only a day after the debacle in the tree.  
"Flip-flops in weather like this?" Early spring could be quite  
cool, even chilly. "How inappropriate."

She addressed all the boys. "You don't have to come with me.  
It's sweet of you, but you don't."

Urameshi elbowed Kurama. "You kidding? It's worth it just to  
see Hiei squirm."

"Out!" Hiei exploded. "Now!"

Kuwabara filed outside, followed by the others. Shay-san fell in  
line behind them.

He plucked at her sleeve. "Not you, woman. Where are you  
going?"

"Obeying my lord and master."

"What I'm wearing, it's okay?" He parted the lapels of the  
borrowed coat concealing his katana---his own had not yet fully  
recovered from the transoceanic flight.

"It's okay," she said absently, not looking at him, leaning into  
the mirror, giving her hair another swipe with her fingers.

"Stop fussing," Hiei snapped. "You're fine."

"I'll stop if you will."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Yes, you are. You're pacing. Even when you stand still, you're  
pacing. I told you, you don't have to do this."

"Urusai. If I say I do a thing, I do it."

She whirled, suddenly fierce. "Did you have to tell the others I  
was---you know...?"

"Why not?" He blinked in confusion. "They'll find out as soon  
as you start to swell up like watermelon."

"Because---oh, skip it. Just don't tell anyone else."

He shrugged. "Women and their quirks."

"Don't."

"All right." He sank into a chair.

Knotting a pale green scarf at her neck, she scowled into the  
mirror, then pulled it off and tossed it aside. Turning to him,  
those wide gumdrop eyes free of guile or malice, she said:  
"Look, I don't know what your story is, but I know it's a bad  
one. I figure you'll tell me when you tell me."

Hiei took a breath, let it out slowly. Now was no time to think  
of his "story."

"Mine's bad enough," she continued, threading the handle of her  
bag over one shoulder. "Me, I'm not just an orphan. I was thrown  
overboard." She switched the bag to her other shoulder. "They  
sailed me off the back porch like a dead Easter chick and never  
had a blink of regret."

His head flicked up. Every nerve came to attention. Thrown  
overboard. Thrown overboard. He would not react. He refused to  
think of it.

Hiei could hear Kuwabara's grating laugh, and the sound of his  
lumbering footsteps as he tussled with Urameshi.

He ran a tongue across dry lips. "Which means---?"

"My parents dumped me on a relative and then proceeded to drink  
themselves to death."

"You said they died in car accident."

"They were tanked when it happened."

"Tanked?"

"Drunk. And I did some fool things growing up because they  
didn't want me."

"What are you saying?"

"You're coming to church? Fine. Then use it. The Blessed  
Mother's there for you whenever you need her."

He burst from the chair, trusting neither his voice nor his body.  
"Finish your stupid fussing. I'll wait outside."

The Immaculate Heart church was all rugged stone on the outside,  
like a fortress; Shay had said it was modeled along the lines of  
an ancient cathedral in miniature, which Hiei had learned was  
something one step above a church. What came after cathedral?  
Basilica? Details could take the mind off anything.

The outside of the church was fine. But once Hiei stepped  
inside---

The whole church seemed to sit up and take notice in a way he  
didn't like, as if it was alive and sending daggers of light to  
destroy this demonic interloper. He hunched his shoulders  
against the light, but that didn't help.

Nor did the light seem to bother anyone else. The other boys  
filed into a pew in the back of the church as if the light didn't  
even exist.

But the firebird did not seat herself. She was walking away from  
him!

"Where are you going?" The tone of panic Hiei heard in his voice  
made his click his mouth shut.

She gave him a brief glance. "I have to go to confession before  
I can receive the Sacrament of the Eucharist. You know that."  
Turning, she disappeared into one of the little wooden booths  
near the entrance.

Don't leave me here! Hiei pleaded in silence. He tensed to run.  
The church was filling up, but he still had a chance.

No. Coward, she had called him on the plane, and, judging by his  
behavior now, he would have to agree.

He slid into the pew, heard Kuwabara advising the others: "My  
friend who goes to St. Thomas Aquinas school said to shut up and  
do what everyone else does, especially kneeling."

"Kneeling?" griped Urameshi. "Oh, man."

"And don't eat the wafers," added Kuwabara.

"When in foreign territory, it's wise to know the laws of the  
land." Kurama shot a veiled glance at Hiei. No doubt all this  
was amusing the fox-boy no end.

And then a voice spoke in Hiei's head, a voice neither male nor  
female. He barely managed not to leap up and draw his sword.

So here you are, it said.

And then music started. Hiei wondered if the voice had been an  
illusion. A procession consisting of a robed man followed by  
some robed children threaded its way up the center aisle.

At last, his firebird slid into the pew beside him, and Hiei  
breathed out in relief. He had imagined her presence would make  
this easier. It suddenly became degrees worse. Because here she  
was, completely unaffected, while he---

The procession had reached the front of the church. Behind them,  
on the wall, was the statue of that man being tortured on some  
kind of wooden scaffolding.

Above that statue, a small round window, a sort of glass mosaic,  
depicting a dove, light exploding from its wings.

Wings and light everywhere. Beating down upon Hiei in silent  
waves, searing his skin. He clasped his hands. He unclasped  
them. He broke into an icy sweat, trembling.

Urameshi, Kuwabara, Kurama---did they feel nothing of this?

His gaze flicked to the side, where one of the church officials  
held a golden bowl filled with those tiny, forbidden wafers.

Light burst from the bowl and struck his eyes. He could not look  
at it long. He could not look at anything. Shay-san, her face  
tranquil, slid into line with people waiting to eat the wafers.

The lump in his throat threatened to choke him. His sword was  
useless here. The dragon, the flame, the Jagan, nothing would  
save him.

I will not cry, Hiei vowed; I never cry.

Of course you won't, said the breathless, bodiless voice. Hiei  
flinched. So it was real---no illusion!

I won't let you, the voice continued. Not here. Don't look at  
the dove or the cross. It will be all right. Look at the  
missal. See the musical notes?

Obeying the bodiless voice, Hiei slid a book from the pocket on  
the back of the pew, opened it to a random page. Black ovals,  
white ovals, some with tails, some not, arrayed over a series of  
parallel lines. The arrangement looked as if it meant something.  
Like code. Like a map. Like a spell. Maybe if he brought all  
his concentration to bear he could figure out the code before the  
light from dove and cross destroyed him.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

A ghostly blue light sifted across the floor. The miko knelt  
alone in the room with its bank of windows, hands clasped to her  
forehead, lips moving in a silent prayer.

In the doorway, the Serpent appeared. Slowly she raised her head  
to him.

"I want something from you," he said.

"No!" Scrambling to her feet, she pushed past him, and darted  
out of the room. He made no attempt to stop her.

"There's nowhere to run," he whispered.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Outside. Still alive.

Had it only been a single hour in the church? It seemed a week.  
Hiei gave a shiver. The sunlight was thin and failed to warm  
him. He refused to look up, refused to meet anyone's gaze, could  
look at nothing but his feet on the sidewalk.

He could barely listen to the voices of his teammates.

"Ja, ne!" Urameshi's unflaggingly cheerful tones, as he parted  
from them and his distinctive footsteps pattered across the  
street.

"Hey, Urameshi---wait up!" Kuwabara, noisy and unafraid as  
always, thundering after him.

"Well," purred Kurama. "Hiei is singularly un-moved by his first  
visit to a ningen church."

"That's what you think," said Shay-san.

Hiei heard her moving away and followed, still seeing only his  
feet that were somehow, miraculously, keeping him safely bound to  
the earth.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

On the glittering gypsum fields of White Sands, sunset threw long  
fingers of bloody light across the land.

The creatures of the daytime, lizard and bird, mammal and insect,  
slithered and flew and scurried for shelter, changing guard with  
the creatures of the nighttime, who came crawling to search the  
desert for the meager scraps of their existence.

High above, a creature of neither night nor day sat in his room  
surrounded by a thin blue glow, facing a miko. Two of his toad-  
servants stood to either side of her, pinioning her arms.

"Don't," she whispered. "Please." In the blue light her face  
appeared skeletal.

"I have as much right to survive as you," the Serpent reminded  
her.

"Not like this!" she cried. "Not by feeding off others!"

"Why not? You feed off death yourself. You consume the flesh of  
dead animals."

"John won't like this." There was a faint warning tone in the  
miko's voice.

"John isn't present to object," the Serpent informed her. "I  
imagine he's hiding somewhere." He rose. A single strand of his  
long white braid loosed itself; he clasped its end between thumb  
and forefinger and stepped closer to the miko. "Well?"

She shook her head violently.

"If you refuse to tell me, there are other ways."

"No!" She thrashed against the toad-faced creatures who held  
her. They adjusted their grip.

"He'll stop you! That demon! He and his friends!"

"I doubt it. I've already spread the seeds of dissent among  
them---they'll be at each other's throats soon enough."

"I won't tell you." The miko's lips drew back. "You can't force  
me to tell you."

"Fool." Holding the live end of the hair like a jeweler about to  
thread pearls, White Sands Serpent slid it between the miko's  
eyes, feeding it into the depths of her memory, where defenses  
are useless.

She screamed.

And on the other side of the world, a demon with black-flame hair  
stood across the street from a church, frozen in fear.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It looked like rain. Like the sky was about to burst into cold  
tears.

Hiei could not even glance at the church, but he had to.  
Ignoring the curious stares of passersby, he thought:

I can't go into that white fire again. Sooner or later in its  
presence I will do something that will give me away, and then---

No. He had set his feet upon this path, and there was no going  
back. "When I say I do a thing, I do it. Keh!" Jamming both  
hands in his pockets, Hiei bolted across the street into the  
church.

Shay-san had told him to ask for Father Brian McCormick. There  
was only one person visible at the moment: a ningen female  
lighting candles at a corner altar. She pointed past Hiei and he  
turned to see the approach of a man in clerical garb.

"That's him," the woman said, and went back to lighting candles.  
Swallowing hard, Hiei awaited the priest.

This was a man of middle years, bulky of chest and shoulder,  
hands scarred with work, gray hair cropped short, the hairline  
receding a bit. As Father Brian reached his side, Hiei realized  
the priest was not much taller than himself. But the sparks  
gathered in those snapping black eyes indicated Father Brian  
would make a bad enemy; he burned with just a touch of that  
merciless light.

"So you've come to talk to me about the RCIA program, have you?"  
Walking rapidly, Father Brian waved Hiei to fall into step with  
him. "Weekly meetings Sunday mornings followed by attendance at  
Mass, starting in September. Do your homework and you'll be  
ready for your first Communion this time next year."

"Can't wait that long," Hiei replied as they entered a hallway.  
"I have a week. Wedding ceremony, too. Also a week." They  
pattered down a short flight of steps and turned a corner into a  
white corridor.

The priest flicked a glance at Hiei. "My, my, in a hurry, are  
we? An' what's the big rush, then?"

The lilt in his voice was something Hiei had heard before, on  
some other television program, about the Emerald Isle. "English-  
speaking priest in Japan. Unusual."

"We go where they send us. Besides, this parish does serve a lot  
of English-speakers."

"You miss Ireland?"

The priest snorted. "Shows what you know, you dumb little shit.  
I'm American---right out of Boston."

Hiei almost broke stride. "My wife's American. That explains  
your mouth."

"It's true." Father Brian sighed, casting a glance upward. "Me  
poor sainted mother tried washing it out with soap on a regular  
basis."

"Too bad it didn't take."

In the long white corridor, the priest stopped a moment to raise  
an eyebrow at Hiei. "Wife, you said? So why in Holy Hell would  
you want me for the ceremony if she's already---"

"There wasn't proper ceremony. Not yet."

Sighing, Father Brian led Hiei toward a door at the end of the  
corridor. "Saints preserve us. One of those write-your-own vows  
hippie types, are we?"

"My wife talks in code just like you." Hiei rolled his eyes.  
"Must be American thing."

"Ahh!" The priest brightened. "It all falls together now! She  
was that little colleen come in with you and your gang of thieves  
and brigands."

Hiei nodded. "She said ask for Father Brian, no one else."

"Then she must think highly of you indeed. I'm the resident holy  
terror. Took her confession an' all. Let me tell you, boy---she  
deserves far better than to be saddled with some surly, half-  
assed delinquent."

"You're hardly what I expected in a man of the cloth."

"And what did you expect? Some doddering wisp of an old geezer  
who'd be scared of the likes of you?"

"Ch."

"Never been to this kind of church before, have you?"

"Never been to any kind."

"Why now?"

"I told w---told Shay-san I would. When I say I will do a thing,  
I do it."

Father Brian opened a dark wooden door, lying stark against the  
white walls, then stood aside to let Hiei in.

There was the sound of faraway heels clicking on wooden floors.  
The faint scent of incense.

With a deep breath, Hiei walked into a small office crowded with  
file cabinets, with a cluttered steel desk wedged into the  
corner. Paintings of a religious nature nearly hid the  
whitewashed walls.

Father Brian shut the door and stood gazing steadily at Hiei with  
those dangerous black eyes. Then he smiled.

"Relax, son. I know you're not human."

The priest shoved a chair at him just in time. Gaping up at  
Father Brian, Hiei whispered, "You know---how?"

"An' did you think Japan's the only place in the world important  
enough to have demons?" Father Brian squeezed past him and sat  
behind his desk. "I didn't celebrate Mass yesterday ---Father  
Tenryou did---but I could feel you from all over the church."  
The priest slid open a desk draw and pulled out a small, flat  
bottle. "You look a little pale. Care for a drink?"

"Liquor?" Hiei's eyes widened. "At this hour?"

"Ah, well." Casting a somewhat mournful glance at the whiskey,  
Father Brian replaced it in the drawer. "At least you're still  
capable of shock. And I never drink alone."

Astonishment, outrage and relief battled inside Hiei. The  
simple act of putting the next foot forward won. "What now?"

"What now is would you mind telling me what in the Holy Hell  
you've got underneath that girly headband of yours? It's giving  
me a migraine."

"It's called the Jagan." In the briefest possible terms Hiei  
went on to explain the origin of his third eye. He didn't want  
to stay a minute longer than necessary; some of the paintings

were aiming blades of light at him, and it hurt.

"Ah, that's a new one on me. And the faggoty black glove?"

"It's a ward---a check. Binds one of my attacks. Makes it safe  
to walk streets. The Kokuryuuha---"

"Enough, enough. Japanese is such a miserable gawdawful  
language, isn't it?"

"How soon can you do this? I've read your Bible. Twice. I know  
everything in it."

Father sat back and skewered him with a cool, appraising stare.  
"You may have read it. I daresay you may even be able to quote  
me chapter and verse. But you don't know it, you arrogant little  
turd. That takes a lifetime." Changing tactics as easily as  
Hiei wielded a sword, the priest beamed, adding, "Still, glory be  
to the Father, bringing me your heathen soul an' all."

"You're happy? I thought that your kind was set against my  
kind---"

"Y'know, you truly are a piece of work. As if you were that kind  
of demon---that kind's not even on the physical plane. Did you  
know all demons were once angels? Fallen angels."

Fallen. Falling. The world was beating him about the head with  
the term. It took all Hiei's control to keep still.

"You now," the priest continued, "you're more like some punk kid  
with fairy magic."

"Fairy magic? I'll show you fairy magic."

"Yeah, you and every other pissant bad-boy wannabe. You're all  
exactly alike; tough on the outside, crying on the inside for  
Mommy and Daddy to love you, and your middle name's Death Wish.  
Show me something new under the sun."

"I could show you the Black Dragon Flame---"

"You have a physical body." Father Brian reached into a cup  
filled with pencils and other flotsam and lifted out a pair of  
scissors. "I assume if I stuck this into your arm you'd bleed."

Hiei shrugged. "If you got past my guard."

"Well, la di da!" Father replaced the scissors. "Aren't we the  
little fancy pants fighter. Don't be so full of yourself, kid. I  
was a Golden Gloves welterweight."

"Then you know fighting. Try stabbing me. I urge you."

Father Brian was quick. He had a good reach and better reflexes.  
It was just that the scissors were no longer there.

Grinning, Hiei held them up. "Not very sharp, anyway."

"Holy---!" Father's black eyes widened. "And I never saw you  
take them. By God, I'd like to see you fight some day!"

"Be careful what you wish for."

"Aimless power." Laughing, Father Brian shook his head. "I've  
seen it all before. If you ever drop that tough-as-nails  
posturing, you might have the energy to strengthen your offense."

At last! Fighting---talk of something worthwhile.

But the priest changed subjects. "Now, quick," he continued.  
"Tell me one good things about yourself."

"I would die to protect my family."

The black eyes sparkled. "Well. That's a start."

Restless, Hiei scanned the walls for the picture he wanted, then  
went to that painting. "I sense things, too. This."

The painting depicted an angel, the one whose motif was the  
sword. The angel looked like a strapping young man who would  
enjoy his battles, the sword quite different from Hiei's katana,  
but appearing wonderfully lethal nonetheless. "That one, the  
name is difficult for me---"

"St. Michael, the Archangel."

"Yes. That one and me. We're born fighters."

"And there are fights ahead, son." The priest sighed. "Make no  
mistake. Sword calls to sword, and I think this sword has been  
calling to you for some time."

Hiei traced the outline of the terrible wings, feeling their  
light against his skin like razors. "Do you get used to it?"

"To what?"

"The pain. From this light."

At the priest's gasp, Hiei turned.

Father Brian was staring up at him, tears glittering the corners  
of his eyes. "You can see it?"

"See what?"

"The light." Father Brian's hands shook as he clasped them on  
the desk.

Bewildered by the reaction, Hiei left the picture and sat again,  
facing the priest. "Can't you?"

"Not one in a thousand is capable---I've always wished for that  
ability." Father Brian got a crumpled tissue from his pocket and  
dabbed his eyes. "This is no accident. You were meant to be  
here."

"I don't know about accidents or meaning. That swordsman in the  
picture, he fights, yes? Demons. More oni---maybe even  
something better. My sword will rust for lack of blood."

Father Brian's face smoothed into a look of ineffible sadness.  
As Hiei sat waiting, he heard the rustle of someone passing in  
the hall, and farther away, the main doors opening.

They matched gaze for gaze, demon and priest, neither one  
flinching. At last the priest spoke again, in a soft, cracked  
voice: "Not all battles take place on the outside."

The awful light made Hiei tired. Tired meant weak. His throat  
ached with that same lump he'd felt yesterday. He lowered his  
head for a moment, contemplating his swordsman's hands. "Battle  
is battle," he said at last.

Father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You said  
something about a wedding."

"And you said I don't deserve her." Hiei glanced up. "Maybe  
true. Don't deserve a lot of things, but---"

"Kid, let me give you one piece of priceless wisdom about the  
Prince of Lies. He doesn't want you to have her. He doesn't  
want you to have those puffed-up hoodlums you call your friends  
either. I can tell they're good boys at the core, but he doesn't  
want you having friends of any kind. He'll use every kind of  
trick to keep you from what's rightfully yours."

The awful burn of light and wings was pushing Hiei's endurance.  
"How fast can you do this?"

"Well." Father Brian scratched at his close-cropped head. "Like  
I said, normally the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults  
takes a year. The wedding, not quite that long, but---"

"I have a week."

"And I know why. Don't worry, son. It's a common enough  
occurrence among young people these days. Baptism will wash away  
that particular sin, along with all your others. Technically,  
you should have waited---"

"I'm waiting now."

"Blessings on you, anyway, for not abandoning the little  
colleen."

"You got it wrong way around. I'm surprised she doesn't run from  
me."

The priest opened a file box on his desk and flipped through it.  
"You're one of Koenma's?"

Hiei nodded. "You know him, then."

"That eager to get away from him?"

"Preferably while he's still on vacation."

Father Brian waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry. Ordinarily,  
I'd send you through normal channels. But the fact that you can  
see the light, and that it hurts you, and still you came to  
me---this tells me you're a good gamble. I'll put in a call to  
Rome and speed things along. It's been something like a century  
or a millennium since one of your kind worked for them. Kiddo,  
they'll absolutely love getting you."

"So in a week everything will be ready?"

The priest nodded. "But there's a catch."

Hiei lifted his lip. "Of course."

"There's a price to pay for all this."

"I didn't bring money. Right now I don't have any, but---"

"Little pissant. If only it was money." Father Brian leaned  
back in his chair, gazing at one of the paintings, a graceful  
woman with melting eyes and twelve silver stars around her  
head---the one Shay-san had called the Blessed Mother. "If you  
go through with all of this, you will no longer be under Koenma's  
control."

The metal chair was becoming uncomfortable. Hiei gave a wriggle.  
"That's the whole point."

"With baptism and forgiveness comes a heavy burden. Your sword  
will be at the service of Rome."

"So long as I get to use it."

The priest hesitated. "And there's one more thing you should  
know."

"There always is."

"If you accept this, you will be judged by a different set of  
rules than Koenma's. When you die, you die."

Hiei looked at the priest in some surprise. Such a thing had not  
occurred to him. Then he glanced at the painting, at the woman  
with the sorrowful eyes. Something about her reminded him of his  
firebird. "Shay-san didn't tell me this."

"Of course not. She doesn't know. She's a lay person---not a  
church official."

Hiei sat, counting his breaths. That particular part of the deal  
was something he had not bargained on.

But. You wanted to get away from Koenma, he thought; You were  
whining to Kurama like a schoolgirl. And this fighting priest  
echoed Kurama's own words as you left for America:

("Do you really want to get away from Koenma that badly?" Kurama  
folding his arms, tilting his head, the arch, amused voice  
irritating, slightly mocking.)

No, Kitsune, Hiei thought. I don't want to get away from Koenma  
that badly. I want to get to her. That badly, and more.

He looked up at the priest. "So 'little colleen' doesn't know.  
Fine. And we keep it that way."

"Be very sure. Isn't easy, being the Sword of Heaven."

"Ch. I fight, therefore I am."

"My, my, my, aren't we the tough case. Aren't we the wicked one.  
So wicked you had the Jagan installed to look for your lost  
sister. Went through the pain of surgery just to watch over her  
from afar." Father Brian got up, came around the desk, tried to  
put a hand on Hiei's shoulder, but Hiei shied away, meeting those  
dangerous black eyes again, and his throat tightened.

"Little changeling, little child of faery," said the priest.  
"How unremittingly evil of you."

It was over. Finished. Done. Priest one, demon nothing.

The tension that had been building all week burst like a dam.  
With a shaking hand to his face, he gave one short, jagged sob.  
It was a lapse of only an instant before he stamped down on his  
weakness.

And sat staring at two perfect, moonglow orbs in his palm.

Father Brian bent over his shoulder. "Well, now. And what might  
these be?"

It was a long time before Hiei could answer, and his voice  
sounded faint and far away. "They're called teargems. But I  
always imagined mine would come out black."

-30-

(To be continued next week)


	13. IB C 13: Holy Water

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 13, Holy Water  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T

Please read disclaimers in Ch. 1

Summary: Light that heals, light that destroys. Which effect  
will it have on Hiei?

A/N: Not exactly a short chapter, but it needs to be posted with  
the next one. My continued thanks for all those who are reading and enjoying this! 

Glossary:

Jiichan: affectionate term for 'grandpa'  
hanyou: half demon, half human

Idiot Beloved Ch 13: Holy Water  
by  
Kenshin

What in Ningenkai was taking so long?

Hiei paced the floor of Urameshi Yuusuke's room, unable to rest  
for more than a moment or two.

He had regained some control over his recent---difficulties.  
Still wanted his firebird, badly. Still counting off the days.

But.

It was mid-week, with Hiei immersed in Father Brian's teachings,  
as his firebird was in the teachings of Genkai. He had managed  
earlier to snatch an hour with the girl, not for passion, but for  
business---a business that would be conducted later, alongside  
Kuwabara and Urameshi.

The sound of footsteps on stairs. Hiei's stomach gave a sudden  
twist. Was that Urameshi? No. Not yet. He released a breath.

There were aspects of the Church that troubled him. He had tried  
discussing it with Kurama, back in the tree, but that had fallen  
apart in a spectacular manner. He would not make another  
attempt.

Hiei also knew, with scalp-prickling certainty, that the cold  
power which had attacked him and the girl in America was  
still after them. He had sensed it when piloting the Cessna over  
the Pacific ocean. Not wishing to panic his firebird, he kept  
silent.

So. That particular fight was coming. Father Brian had said if  
Hiei dropped his defense, he might gain a more powerful offense:  
"Play to your strengths, kid. You'll need it. All your battles  
up till now have been playground scuffles. The real fight begins  
today."

He needed some air. Hiei inched open the window. A fresh breeze  
stroked his skin as he took another deep breath.

Just because he had to fight a different battle today, there was  
no reason to do it in Shay-san's presence.

Atsuko-san was not at home; there would be no one but the  
reliably tough Urameshi to witness Hiei's ordeal. Later Kuwabara  
would join them. Not Kurama. Hiei couldn't face that one, not  
now.

Baptism by Holy Water. Hiei wasn't sure he could survive it.

The front door opened. Hiei jumped.

"Oi, Hiei!" Urameshi called. "You still around?"

"In here."

Urameshi bounded into the room, looking indecently cheerful. "I  
brought the bottle." Fishing something from his jacket, Urameshi  
waved it in the air.

"Well?" Hiei held out a hand.

"Can't wait to get at it?" Grinning, the other boy tossed it  
carelessly; catching it, Hiei regarded it with suspicion.

It was a tiny bottle filled with clear liquid, nothing but a  
smooth cylinder no larger than Urameshi's thumb. And it gave off  
a faint glow. "You didn't steal this, did you?"

Urameshi smirked. "What do you take me for? All you gotta do is  
ask. I even put some money in the collection box."

So this was the real thing. Holy Water, with its power to  
destroy demons. Father Brian had said he wasn't "that kind of  
demon." But what if the priest was wrong?

He thrust the bottle at Urameshi. "You do it."

Laughing, Urameshi put up his hands. "No way. Ain't gonna be  
held responsible if you melt into an obnoxious black puddle."

Hiei laid the bottle on Urameshi's desk. It was the work of a  
millennium even to touch it again. Were his hands warm because  
of nerves, or was the Water already beginning to burn him?

"C'mon." Urameshi watched, a feral grin on his face. "Why even  
bother if this is supposed to---"

"Because I said I would. Because I want to know ahead of time  
what will happen when I---"

"So? Back out of the deal. Ditch the girl. Forget about the  
little hanyou bastard. Who says it's yours anyway?"

Fists clenched, Hiei whirled on the other boy. It took a moment  
or two to realize Urameshi was joking. "Thanks for the advice."  
Hiei lifted his lip. "Jiichan."

"Open it."

"I will." Hiei placed the bottle back on Urameshi's desk.

"I knew it." Urameshi folded his arms. "Scared of a little  
bitty bottle of water."

Scared? Only a fool would not be scared. A thing like this had  
to be approached from an angle. Full frontal assault was not an  
option.

Ignoring Urameshi's taunts, Hiei glanced at the desk, selected a  
framed photo of Atsuko-san, holding baby Urameshi. "She looks so  
young."

"She was. My age, about."

"You don't know who your father was."

"So? Wanna make something of it?"

Shaking his head, Hiei thought: I don't know who mine was either.  
But I can't tell you that. And---unlike my mother--- Atsuko-san  
kept you. She kept you.

Hiei returned the picture to its place on the desk. "Back at the  
shrine, those oni could have killed me."

"You? Taken down by oni?" The other boy spun a chair around to  
straddle it. "Don't make me laugh."

"I got careless. There were only three of them, and I was  
thinking about her. They're much faster than the locals. One  
got my sword."

Urameshi hissed in derision. "I'm guessing you got it back. And  
took their heads for their trouble."

"Yes." But, Hiei thought, if they had killed me, she would have  
been stuck, alone. Wondering what happened. Why I never  
returned. The child would be thinking: who was my father? Why  
isn't he here?

Again, Hiei glanced at Atsuko-san's photo. And wondered whether  
that wasn't exactly what happened to his own father. Had he  
meant to return, but something stopped him?

"I do this for her," he repeated.

"Enough of this touchy-feely crap." Urameshi raked impatient  
hands through his hair. "Just open the friggin' bottle."

"I got careless in America. I can't afford to get careless now."

"Great." Surging from the chair, Urameshi flopped onto the bed,  
arms flung to the side. "I waste an afternoon just so you can  
bore me with your new-found sense of caution."

Hiei picked up the bottle again. "Words are cheap."

"Open the freakin' bottle, Hiei."

"I will. Just---" With a quick twist, Hiei unscrewed the top,  
then gasped, nearly dropping it.

And turned to Urameshi, wide-eyed. "Do you see it?"

The other boy sat up. "See what?"

"How can you not see it?"

Urameshi got off the bed. "WHAT?"

The light! Pouring from the bottle, bursting into the room!  
Golden light that lifted the hairs on the back of his neck,  
crashing chords of light that sang of cruel angels and a destiny  
of sky and flames.

Shaking all over, Hiei put up his ward-arm as a shield. He  
couldn't breathe, couldn't steady his hands. "Yuusuke. At least  
hold the bottle."

"Okay, okay." The other boy jumped forward like a young lion,  
snatching the bottle, unaffected by its proximity. "Here. Happy  
now?"

Hiei stared at the bottle in Urameshi's hands, wordless.

"You know how to do this?" prompted Urameshi.

Swallowing, his throat sticking to itself, Hiei nodded. "Yes."  
Lowering his ward-arm, he sketched the Sign in the air: forehead,  
breastbone, left shoulder, right. "You make---this---upon  
yourself, with the Water."

"You sure it's okay?" Urameshi squinted at the bottle. "I mean,  
Kuwabara said we weren't allowed to eat the wafers---"

"This is different. Holy Water is a sacramental, not a  
sacrament."

"Whatever."

"It simply means anyone can partake. Even you, Urameshi."

"Do I have to clock you or are you gonna freakin' do this?"

Hiei pondered what Father Brian had said about baptism. It would  
give him a clean slate. An attractive idea, to start over, to be  
forgiven. Forgiveness was in short supply where Hiei had been  
born.

Maybe that steadied him. Or maybe he drew strength from his  
younger, more carefree friend. "Give me that." Hiei took the  
Holy Water from Urameshi.

Outside, a horn blared. A sudden puff of air from the half-  
opened window brought in the smell of exhaust.

I do not want to be extinguished here, thought Hiei. Not now.  
But I must know.

Pressing his right thumb to the neck of the open bottle, he  
covered the stream of burning light, and tilted the bottle.

The Water struck his thumb, exploded in his body, knocking his  
legs from under him. Crashing to the floor, Hiei gasped,  
blinded.

Light thundered through his bloodstream, quicker than wildfire,  
transforming him, burning him away cell by cell. Stop, please!  
he cried, but the cry never reached his lips. He could not  
survive. The Holy Water was destroying him.

Then came the same breathless, bodiless voice he had heard in  
church: It's all right, the voice assured him, Just a moment  
more.

"Oi! Hiei!" Urameshi was shaking his shoulder, his voice  
frantic.

Hiei opened his eyes.

Removing his thumb from the neck of the bottle, he stared at the  
clinging drops of fiery water. His thumb was still whole; it had  
not melted away. Quickly, he sketched the Sign on himself with a  
crystal bead of Holy Water.

Urameshi scowled. "Well?"

"I..." Hiei breathed out. His thumb still tingled. Dots of  
light, fading now, marked his chest and shoulders. He could feel  
it between his brows, a cool burn dissolving to mist.

Eyes blazing, Urameshi had his teeth bared, hands at the ready,  
as if his fists could protect Hiei from that terrible light.  
"You okay, man?"

"I'm still here," Hiei marveled. "Still here."

There was a knock at the door.

"Good." Urameshi scrambled to his feet. "'Cause so's Kuwabara."

0-0-0-0-0

Something was following Kurama.

In fact, that 'something' had followed him all the way from  
school. As it had on two previous occasions.

Time to end the game. Instead of walking straight home, Kurama  
cut through the park.

Yoyougi Koen---a pleasant diversion of both evergreen and  
deciduous growth, today filled with the wild beauty of their  
combined scents. Ginko leaf. Pine needle. Spent sakura.

Giggling clusters of teenage girls darted shy glances at Kurama.  
An elderly couple strolled ahead of him, not quite holding hands.

He walked until he reached a clearing free of people, with a  
decent cover of trees. The thing was still with him.

There was a rustle in a low branch of a juniper behind him. He  
put a hand to his hair. Without a backward glance, Kurama sent  
the Rose Whip flicking up to wind its tip around the stalker.  
With another flick, he brought his follower down and held it in  
his hand.

"Just as I suspected," he said.

It was a jaki, now struggling in his grip. Favored breed for spy  
work; the ki of these tiny demons was so insignificant it could  
be difficult to detect, and they didn't give off much odor. This  
was one of the smaller kind, known for swiftness and stealth, if  
not an abundance of brains.

Well, Spirit Detective Team member---detect.

Adjusting his grip on the jaki, Kurama withdrew the Rose Whip.  
The jaki bit his thumb, drawing blood. Kurama gave it a warning  
squeeze, then slid it in his pocket and pinioned it. With his  
other hand, he extracted a seed from his hair, coaxing it into  
life.

When Kurama had finished, the leaf, toothed like a dandelion,  
heart-shaped like a morning glory, had grown from fingernail-  
sized to something as big as his hand and the color of sunlight.  
He slipped the Keepsake leaf into his pocket, where it folded  
obediently around the jaki.

"That should hold you for a bit," he told it, and headed for  
home.

0-0-0-0-0

Shutting his eyes, Hiei rested on the floor, back propped against  
the wall while Urameshi went to let Kuwabara in.

They were about to set down some basic information that would  
help Urameshi's mother, with her yakuza connections, obtain fake  
ID for him. If Hiei was going to remain in Ningenkai, at least  
for the moment, and Koenma out of reach---

He had pointedly asked Urameshi that Kurama not be told. Later,  
perhaps. But not just now.

Hiei opened his eyes just as Urameshi returned with Kuwabara in  
tow. Clutching an armful of snacks, the big goofball broke into  
a toothy grin when he spotted Hiei.

"Oi, Shrimpboat!" Kuwabara tossed Hiei a bag of wasabi peas  
before crashing onto Urameshi's bed.

Hiei gave him half a nod. "Oi, Moron." His two companions  
seemed so utterly normal and utterly unaffected by his recent  
ordeal that it gave him a headache.

"At least you got through that Holy Water crap." Urameshi  
settled at his desk, a bag of peanuts clamped between his jaws.

"At least." Snicking open the peas, Hiei popped a handful into  
his mouth, liking the pleasant sting, a sting quite unlike that  
of the Water. "It would have proved inconvenient if I vanished  
into a puddle just before the ceremony."

"Listen, Shorty." Words muffled by a mouthful of chips, Kuwabara  
pointed an accusing forefinger at Hiei. "You ain't thinkin' of  
running out on her, are you?"

That didn't even deserve the dignity of a reply. "My w---" He  
stopped, corrected himself. "Shay-san helped me with the  
details. I said I needed a history that could not be traced, and  
she knew exactly what to do. Scares me sometimes, what a good  
criminal she would make."

"Well." Urameshi drummed his pen on the desk, getting out a  
piece of paper. "She is an American."

"Hey, Half-Pint!" Kuwabara mimed shooting a revolver. "She  
bring her guns with her?"

"I'll ask."

Kuwabara glanced around the room. "Where's Kurama? Ain't he  
comin'?"

"No." Hiei studied the floor.

"Why not?" insisted Kuwabara.

With a long-suffering sigh, Hiei thumped his head against the  
wall. "At any rate---Shay-san did a lot of research, and this is  
what she came up with: Trappist monks run the Kamiiso Monastery  
up north in Hokkaido. Loosely connected with them was an  
orphanage that burnt down a number of years ago. All records  
destroyed. No one would be able to check my story if I say I  
came from there."

He described the orphanage, and gave the dates it had been in  
operation. "Write that for my birthplace. I'll have to say that  
I was privately educated."

"At least that's no lie," growled Kuwabara.

"Trappists take a vow of silence." He gave them a wicked glint.  
"And poverty. No meat, no fish, no fowl---probably no wasabi  
peas---but they brew world-famous beer."

"Mmm-hmmm. Beer. Gotcha." Urameshi scribbled industriously.  
"Place of birth: Hokkaido, lived, St. Benedict Orphanage. Birth  
date?" He glanced down at Hiei.

Hiei told them the date. Urameshi wrote that down.

"How old are you for real?" asked Kuwabara.

"I already said."

"No, really." Urameshi bit the end of the pen.

"Really."

"No, come on," laughed Urameshi. "Real D-O-B."

"Yeah, we're all team-mates here," urged Kuwabara. "Nothin' to  
hide, right?"

For the second time, Hiei thumped his head against the wall.  
"Same as the date I just gave you. Did you write it down or must  
I do everything for you?"

"I freakin' wrote it down." Urameshi crumpled the empty bag of  
peanuts and tossed it at Hiei, where it fell miserably short of  
its target. "I just don't believe you. What are you, fifty? A  
hundred? Three hundred? I thought demons were virtually  
immortal."

Hiei loosed a sigh. "Would it do any good explaining to you in  
words of one syllable that a life lived in Makai grows you up  
fast?"

"But Youko is..." Kuwabara glanced uncertainly at Urameshi.

Hiei tensed. This interrogation was exactly what he had hoped to  
avoid, and was inching dangerously close to his true origins. He  
snapped, "I beg to remind you that I am not Youko Kurama."

Then relaxed. They were just kids---not mind-readers. Letting  
out a deep breath, he added, "I also remind you that Minamino  
Shuuichi is only a year older than you two."

Urameshi gave him a quizzical stare. "So you're really---"

"Yes. I'm really nineteen."

The other two boys exploded into whatever it was that human boys  
explode into when they experience a shock of that magnitude.  
Hiei emptied the remaining wasabi peas into his mouth, ground  
them to a paste and swallowed them.

"I don't believe it. You're like---" sputtered Urameshi.

"Like younger than Shay-san!" finished Kuwabara.

"By three whole years." Hiei wadded the empty bag of peas,  
tossed it at the big idiot. His shot did not miss. "Which still  
makes me your senior."

"You hooked up with an older woman!" Giggling like a schoolgirl,  
Kuwabara sprayed the room with chips.

Urameshi did not add to the comment, being doubled over with  
laughter.

"Just don't let me catch you guzzling sake again like that night  
at Genkai's," growled Hiei.

"No, Sir," Kuwabara snapped a salute.

"No, Sir, Major Pain-In-The-Ass Jiichan." Urameshi fell off his  
chair, gasping for breath, clutching at his ribs. "I th-think  
I'm gonna throw up."

"Feel free. It's your house." Hiei picked up the pen and paper  
and tried to give them back to Urameshi. Urameshi promptly  
dropped them. Hiei rolled his eyes. "With friends like you I  
have no need of enemies."

0-0-0-0-0-0

Kurama was thankful his mother wasn't home. It would make his  
work with the little spy easier.

He closed his hand around the jaki and slid it from his pocket.  
With one finger, he shriveled the Keepsake leaf. The jaki  
blinked up at him.

"You are in my power," it said, unsteadily.

Kurama smiled. "Of course I am."

It bit Kurama's thumb, again drawing blood. It would pay for  
that, but later.

Kurama pondered the events of the last few months. Ever since  
Hiei had helped steal the three treasures from Koenma, something  
had seemed a bit off. As if the fire demon was on the verge  
of---there was no other way to put it---hysteria.

But by the time the Dark Tournament rolled around, Hiei seemed  
reasonably normal once more: reveling in his own power, and  
susceptible to teasing.

Now---

This was not any Hiei Kurama knew. Not the one who came back  
from America with the little gaijin in tow and a Rosary round his  
neck.

Was the girl really in danger? Or was she after something else?  
Kurama narrowed his eyes at the jaki. "Why do you follow me?"

"I was told to." It bit his thumb again. He tightened his grip  
in warning.

"By whom?"

The jaki bared its teeth in an ugly leer. "By whom not? Who  
does not wish to know the doings of the great Youko Kurama?"

"Have you met a fire-demon---a swordsman---with red eyes and  
starburst hair?"

The jaki lifted its minute lip. "Everyone knows Hiei-sama."

Then was it Hiei who had sent this jaki? Or---

With his free hand, Kurama reached for the demonary by the  
Franciscan monk, McNeil. He paged the heavy tome open to the  
chapter he had marked and angled it toward the jaki. "Do you  
know this one?"

The jaki shook its head.

"Shall we just see about that?" Palming another seed from his  
hair, Kurama laid hold of the jaki's minute jaws and pried them  
apart. He popped the seed onto its tongue. Holding its jaws  
shut, he massaged its throat until the bobbing larynx indicated  
it had swallowed.

He released it. Briefly, he sucked blood from his thumb, noting  
the number of times the jaki had broken his skin and adding the  
sum to what it owed already. Then he counted silently to ten.

Kurama knew well enough the side effects of his own drugs. For  
instance, the painkiller Hiei had taken to America---

Which would mean everything that had happened was, in a sense,  
Kurama's fault.

Only one way to find out. The Bindwort seed would have begun to  
work by now. For a time, the jaki would bend to Kurama's will.  
After that---

He showed it the picture again. "Still don't know anything about  
this one?"

The jaki shook its head.

"What was it you told me before? Oh, yes. I believe it went  
something like, 'You are in my power.'"

"Yes, Master."

"Now, my malleable little friend." Kurama bared his teeth in a  
smile that had the jaki trembling. "There's someone I want you  
to follow."

-30-

(To be continued---has the enemy found them?)


	14. IB C 14: Firebird and Flying Shadow

Please read disclaimer in Ch. 1

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 14, Firebird and Flying Shadow  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: M\T  
Summary: The aftermath of the ceremony leaves Hiei shaken

A/N: The corollary to Ch. 13---these two had to be posted  
together. Warning for implied sexual content. Again, thanks to all those who are reading and enjoying this.

Idiot Beloved Ch.14: Firebird and Flying Shadow  
by  
Kenshin

"A savage place! as  
holy and enchanted

As e'er beneath a  
waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing  
for her demon-lover!"

--Coleridge, Kubla Khan (A Vision In A Dream, 1816)

"Alone at last," she said, but sounded as if her heart wasn't in  
it.

The little firebird turned away from Hiei, removed her hat and  
pin and bracelet, placed them on the flea market table that had  
been a gift from Team Urameshi: Something old, something new,  
something borrowed, something blue, she'd said; yet another  
ningen custom Hiei did not fully understand.

Genkai had vacated the temple for 24 hours. That was a gift  
beyond price.

But Shayla Kidd was a stranger to him now.

He wanted her to turn and smack him with that mischievous glance.  
Wanted to hear her jovial insults. Wanted to see her perform  
that supple, unbelievable backbend.

She did none of those things. Hiei felt as if he no longer  
belonged inside his own skin.

The week of learning and preparation was done.

In an attempt to bridge the rift between himself and Kurama, Hiei  
had said to the kitsune, "Well? Will you stand with me in  
church, or will I ask the moron?" Kurama had agreed, but  
remained unreadable.

Keiko was both ringbearer and bridesmaid; Shizuru had briefly  
pulled Hiei aside to say, "All women go insane once a month.  
Learn to ignore it."

Shizuru didn't know about the little hanyou. No one but Genkai,  
the priest and Team Urameshi knew; seeing how his firebird  
disliked even those few knowing, that was how Hiei wanted it.

The bride herself had refused to wear white. At least Hiei  
understood the nuances of that gesture.

Granted, it had been easier to get through the remainder of the  
week after his visit with Father Brian. But during the  
mercifully-brief reception at Genkai's, the sword and stars and  
iron had returned, full-force. Hiei burned.

Katana no you ni. Hoshi no you ni. Tetsu no you ni: Sword,  
stars, iron. A delicate chain made from all three, invisible,  
but always with him.

Things he knew to be meaningless had suddenly taken on great  
meaning.

("Arrange your ningen ceremony however you wish," he'd said;  
"I'll join your church if you like. It's nothing to me.")

Of his baptism and confirmation, Hiei would speak to no one.  
Father Brian had told Hiei these milestones normally took place  
in church, with a sponsor standing you up in front of the entire  
congregation.

That his should take place in secrecy Hiei found fitting. That  
it shook him to the core---even beyond what he had experienced  
with the Holy Water---he found disturbing and perplexing both.

And Yukina! What a surprise that had been. No: shock. Utter  
shock.

"You have to tell Yukina who you really are," Shay-san had  
insisted.

"Telling her could mean my death," Hiei said.

"You'll find a way."

Then, the night after Hiei's Holy Water ordeal, Yukina herself  
had called to him.

She was sitting on a stone bench under the moon. "Hiei-san?  
What are you doing out here?"

He stopped. "Looking for you."

And of course Yukina would be found outside. Outside where birds  
could come and go as they pleased. After five years in that  
man's dungeon, where else but relishing her freedom?

Approaching her neat little figure, Hiei cleared his throat.  
"Soon, there will be a ceremony with everyone present. I can't  
let it go by without telling you---"

"Sit, oniisan."

The jolt that ran through him sent a covey of birds flying from  
the trees.

"Yukina! You knew?" He sank to the bench.

"Not at first." She gazed steadily at him, the faintest smile on  
her lips. "But did you think I was blind? Your eyes, my eyes,  
the same color. That Jagan. No one gets such an implant and  
masters its use just on a whim."

"I didn't get it just to look for you," he protested, tense, as  
if Shigure would leap from the trees and demand his life. When  
nothing happened he let out a great breath. "Shay-san called me  
a coward. I suppose she's right."

"Oniisan." Yukina put a hand to her face. "It must have been  
dreadful for you."

"Nothing worth mention." He drew his knees up, wrapping both  
arms around them, limp with relief. "Not like what you had to  
endure."

A few of the tiny, dust-colored birds came flitting back to  
settle near the bench. Yukina scooped up some seed, put out a  
hand; one bird landed to feed. The birds liked Yukina more than  
they feared him.

His sister tilted her face to the moon. "But for this to worry  
you for so long. Even Kazuma-san knows."

"What?" Hiei shot to his feet. One skittish bird flew off,  
complaining. "The moron knows?"

She turned her gaze back upon him, nodding. Did he read pity in  
those ruby eyes, or---

"How?" He crashed back to the bench. "When?"

"He doesn't say, not directly. But I believe he guessed on the  
ferry ride back from the Dark Tournament."

Another night darter landed near him, pecked at the seed, then  
hopped away. Yukina laughed behind her hand.

Hiei slumped, gazing at the indecisive bird. "I will never live  
this down."

"Why do you dislike him so?"

He shrugged. "It's a game with us. He calls me Shorty. I call  
him Moron. Don't tell him I said that."

"I'll have to keep a notebook of what not to tell whom. At any  
rate, I thank you for your part in freeing me from Tarukane."

"You are my sister." He paused, gathering more courage. "And  
soon to have a sister-in-law."

Yukina said nothing for the space of several heartbeats. Then,  
with a delicate finger, she sketched the kanji for fire. "A word  
of caution, my brother. She's lovely, but she bears the true  
fire soul. Fire to fire---not good."

"I have enough ice in me for the both of us." He regarded his  
sister from the tail of his eye; her hair silvered by the moon,  
her face turned away from him.

Yukina tilted her head back. "Such a moon," she sighed.

Hiei looked up. The moon was at half-phase, her hammered surface  
like a coin folded over. Under his steady gaze, the other half  
revealed herself, a ghost-image, playful in the vast mirror of  
sky.

"Nothing is lost," said Yukina. "Nothing is invisible."

They sat for a long time, hands almost touching on the stone  
bench, but not quite.

And today, Yukina had refused to enter the church. Perhaps she,  
too, could see the light. Perhaps it frightened her as much as  
it had him.

He would have to guard against thinking of Yukina as provincial,  
superstitious. Surely she would realize, and it would hurt her.  
He had no wish to hurt her.

Two fire souls.

Hiei looked at his firebird now. All her fires banked. He  
hoped they were merely banked. Not extinguished. Please, not  
that.

He barely understood his own drive. Only that it existed, that  
it pushed aside all other needs.

"I'm sorry." The firebird's voice was a whisper.

He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. "For what?"

She still had her back to him. "A powerful demon like yourself.  
Brought down by mortal woman." She re-arranged her bracelet and  
hat on the tabletop. "You never bargained for any of this, did  
you?"

He snorted. "Shut up, woman."

She didn't turn, didn't lob it back in his face. "Maybe if I  
changed out of this suit," she murmured.

"Yes." And maybe if I did as well, he thought.

Changing clothes didn't help. They stood at opposite ends of the  
room and moved no closer.

The fading sun threw long fingers of light onto the floor. Hiei  
measured the distance between them.

That was the problem. They were too far away from one another.  
Too far for the wisdom of his body to intercede. It had made  
decisions he would never make; in many ways it was smarter than  
he.

She stood frozen to her spot near the table. He would have to be  
the one to breach the gap.

Hesitating only a little, he erased the distance between them,  
inch by inch. She was still fascinated by the table. Without  
turning her around, he leaned against her back.

"What about the jaki?" she began. "What about that white thing  
that chased us from the temple? What about---"

"Later," he interrupted. "This is one night. All the time we  
get. Don't waste it."

"But---"

He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. And  
then, sighing into her hair, "Stupid, stupid woman."

"Stupid demon."

And because it was the one thing he could not say, he said it:  
"You could rule me with just your voice."

"So could you."

"I'm sorry the bed's not here yet."

"I'm not." She snickered, into his shoulder. "I like the feel  
of being sandwiched between a rock-solid floor and a  
rock-solid---"

His mouth went dry. "I'm sorry the bed's not here," he repeated.

"Baka youkai." Her fingers felt cool on his arms; he burned for  
real now.

"Baka yourself," he murmured, then hitched a breath.

Her hair brushed his cheek. "What's wrong?"

He was unable to speak above a hoarse whisper. "It hurts."

Her hands slid around his waist; his legs were already shaking.  
"Want me to kiss it better?"

Outside, the wind rustled, cooling the air.

The corners of his mouth twitched. "Not while we're standing."

"I imagine we can correct that."

He took her by the shoulders and slowly, slowly, put her away  
from him so he could gaze into those glimmering gumdrop eyes.

"Make me," he purred.

0-0-0-0-0

When Hiei finally woke, it was past dark, and a nightthroat  
called, soft and distant. From the sound of his firebird's  
breathing, he knew she was out like a light. He hoped she wasn't  
in the same kind of shape he was.

And he was ravenous.

Wincing, he eased to his feet. He could barely manage to stand,  
barely manage to walk to the kitchen; steadying himself with a  
hand on the wall, he felt like he had pulled every muscle in his  
back. He stopped for breath before he could make it to the  
refrigerator and open it, clinging to the door for support.

And he laughed.

Urameshi---it could be no one else!---had packed the fridge  
almost full with boxes of milk---and oranges.

It took Hiei a while to get over the mix of surprise, delight and  
malice. Plotting revenge would taste sweet.

But, hiding behind the wall of unwanted items---he tracked it by  
its clean, oceanic scent---was also an excellent slab of sushi-  
grade tuna, glistening with a purple cast. Mouth watering, he  
snatched it up, ready to tear into it and bolt it then and there.

And stopped, tuna dangling between thumb and forefinger. The raw  
tuna was calling his name, but---

Igniting a pan, he seared the fish on both sides, plated it atop  
some rice with two pair of chopsticks, then brought it in to  
share with her.

0-0-0-0-0

A miko wobbled down the lightless hall, stumbled, then caught  
herself on a low table. She rested there a few minutes, taking  
in deep, shuddering breaths.

Straightening again, she put one foot in front of the other, her  
unsteady footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. She stopped,  
sank to her knees.

From behind her, two arms circled her waist and pulled her to her  
feet. She turned and lifted a trembling hand toward the man's  
face.

"John," she said. Her voice cracked in the dark. "I didn't want  
to tell him. I didn't want him knowing that. That of all  
things."

"Please be careful," John whispered.

The carpet also swallowed up another set of footsteps. With his  
black suit, with his long white braid and ivory skin, John's lord  
and master looked like a floating head in the dark.

White Sands Serpent had come upon them without warning.

"Again you overstep your bounds," he said to John.

John whirled. His face turned as white as the Serpent's hair.

0-0-0-0-0

At her cry, Hiei was on his feet, already in attack posture.  
"Where is it?" he hissed.

"Where's what?" Shay-san's voice was muffled, thick.

Hiei could sense no other ki but hers and his own. He could  
smell no enemy, hear nothing out of the ordinary.

Striding to the screen, he flung it open, wondering whether  
Urameshi and the others might be planning some sort of practical  
joke far more brutal than a refrigerator full of milk, for which  
they would pay dearly.

The cold air hit his aching frame. That sudden leap into action  
had not done his overused muscles any good. There was no shadow,  
no rustle of movement.

He limped back to her.

"Nothing," he said. "It's nothing."

She was sitting up now, tracking him, shivering a bit. He drew  
the quilt around her shoulders.

"Do demons dream?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Humans do, too. I had a bad one. There was fire, and it had a  
shape, and it was laughing."

"Stupid woman," he said, gathering her up. "That was me."

In the dark, bits of moonlight flew to her eyes. She shook her  
head. "It was laughing at you, too."

0-0-0-0-0

Late afternoon of the following day. The air warmed by a  
swelling sun.

Hiei sat on the temple floor, head in hands, in utter despair.

"Woman, woman," he groaned, "what did they do to you?"

She smacked the bokken back into its saya and planted her little  
fists on her hips. "Meaning?"

She seemed to be moving more freely than he was; there were  
scratches on his back that stung and his legs still ached. He  
concluded that ningen females had amazing recuperative powers.

"Here." Levering himself up, he snatched the practice sword from  
her. Setting his stance, he attacked. In an elaborate parody of  
her movements, he slapped his feet on the floor with each  
advance, senselessly flailing the blade. "Are you cutting your  
way through jungle? Is this machete? You throw your energy into  
the floor! Who was this sensei of yours? Did he also give  
children's parties on the side?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, Dragon Boy, it was the middle of the  
Arizona desert, not Tokyo. Gonzalez-sensei was the only game in  
town."

"Someone should have fed him to the Chupa-thing. I don't know if  
I can correct this. I doubt anyone can."

Hiei had come to several painful decisions in the last 24 hours,  
not the least of which was that she, who was so good with verbal  
thrust and parry, could not wield a sword to save her life.

But she could make him laugh. Even when he wasn't quite sure  
what she was saying, she made him laugh. Even when she said  
nothing at all: like this morning, when she had opened the  
refrigerator. Cranking her head around bit by bit to face him.  
Cranking one eyebrow on high.

Wonder of wonders, he could make her laugh, too: "But I thought  
you liked milk," he'd said, gratified when she nearly fell to the  
floor.

And they were laughing now. She stuck out her hand. "Give me  
back that sword. You've got one of your own. And speaking of  
that, why haven't I seen you fight? I think I would like to see  
you fight. I think it would be fun."

"You saw me fight." He tossed her the bokken; she used both  
hands to catch it.

"That wasn't fighting. That was picking up a side of beef and  
flinging it over your shoulder." She flicked her gaze to his  
katana. "Can you use that sword? Or are you all talk?"

"I'm no talk whatever. Even you should know this by now."

"I do know it." She set her bokken down in a corner. "I've had  
better conversations with Ginger."

He put his sword next to hers. "The vegetable?"

"The dog. Same thing."

He snorted; she giggled. Everything seemed funny to him, right  
down to the pain that bit him whenever he moved.

Then, from outside the temple, he heard voices, footsteps. And  
gave a long, deep sigh of regret. "They're coming," he said.

"I'm afraid so." Her glance was wistful. "Party's over."

-30-

(To be continued next week---with karaoke!)


	15. IB C 15: Some Like It Hot

Please read Disclaimer in Ch. 1.

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 15, Some Like It Hot  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T

Summary: Chilis and karaoke for the gang---what sort of test is  
this anyway?

Idiot Beloved Ch 15: Some Like It Hot  
by  
Kenshin

The sun was a bloated orange, firing low in the sky, when Team  
Urameshi returned to Genkai's temple.

Ambling alongside Genkai-shihan, Kurama paused now and then to  
sip a breath of blossom-scented air. Genkai walked in silence;  
Yuusuke and Kuwabara ranged ahead, elbowing one another and  
snickering too low for Kurama to hear anything except the word  
"milk."

Kurama held back from the other two boys, both to keep pace with  
Genkai and to exhibit a sense of decorum, so as not to be overtly  
intruding on the newly-forged pair.

Then Yuusuke broke away, clattering up the temple steps.  
"C'mon," he crowed to Kuwabara. "Maybe we'll catch 'em naked!"

"Hey, that ain't right," protested Kuwabara. Cupping his hands  
around his mouth, the big boy shouted: "We're comin', you two!  
Are you guys decent?"

No response, but both boys crashed through the temple doors.

"Nitwits," muttered Genkai. "I suppose we'd better catch up and  
make sure Hiei doesn't kill one of them."

Kurama let Genkai precede him. Pausing for a moment, he heard  
faint sounds emanating from the small practice room to the right.  
Exchanging wary glances with Genkai, he slipped into the  
room.

Kuwabara and Yuusuke were already there, elbowing one another and  
giggling. Well, thought Kurama, At least Hiei and the girl are  
dressed.

And suppressing laughter themselves. A little worm of unease  
turned over in the pit of Kurama's belly.

"Man!" Yuusuke, guffawing himself, gave Kuwabara another elbow.  
"Hiei laughing? It's the end of the friggin' world."

"Hope we're not interrupting anything." Kuwabara bobbed in a  
little half-bow.

"Right." Yuusuke snickered. "Hope you got it all outta your  
system by now."

In one corner of the room, Hiei's katana and the girl's practice  
sword stood side-by-side. Hiei and the girl themselves stood  
side-by-side, instantly unreadable, as if closing ranks against  
the outside world.

Like Hiei, the girl was small but beautifully-proportioned,  
flicking Kurama an upward glance.

Who is this girl, really? wondered Kurama: She's all but a  
stranger to me still. What happened in American apart from  
bullfighting to make Hiei believe he knows 'everything about  
her?'

And then, to Kurama's utter shock, Hiei sank to the floor in  
full amplification of Kuwabara's polite little bow, his black-  
flame head level with Genkai's feet.

"Bassan." Hiei rose. "Thank you for the use of your temple."

Swiveling, Genkai lifted an eyebrow at Yuusuke. "Now why can't  
you behave like that?"

"You want me to be like Hiei?" Yuusuke rolled his eyes. "Geez,  
the world really is coming to an end!"

The girl pattered over to Genkai and knelt to plant a tiny kiss  
on the old woman's wrinkled cheek. "I thank you as well, Baasan.  
It was more than we deserved."

Genkai's eyes flew wide. "It was nothing, child. Sorry it  
couldn't have been longer."

Kurama hissed a breath. Perhaps the girl had awakened in Genkai  
some long-dormant maternal instinct.

Or perhaps the little gaijin was playing her like a deck of  
cards.

"Oi!" protested Yuusuke, tapping the side of his own face. "Shay-  
san! How 'bout some of that stuff over here?"

"Over my dismembered body." Hiei folded his arms.

"That can be arranged," Yuusuke said.

"Jackass," muttered Genkai.

"Hey, you leave her alone, Urameshi." Kuwabara got between  
Yuusuke and the girl.

"Get over yourself, Kuwabara." Yuusuke grinned at the girl.  
"I'm just teasing and she knows it."

Nodding, the little gaijin went to Kuwabara, stretching up on  
tiptoe to pat the wide shoulder. "I do know it. But I  
appreciate it all the same, Kuwabara-kun."

Kuwabara flushed beet-red, muttering, "Don't mention it."

A master manipulator, then, thought Kurama. Worthy opponent,  
even for Youko.

"Minna-san, thanks for the table as well," she added, with her  
own sweeping bow.

"And the milk," growled Hiei.

Only Hiei could make a simple thank-you sound like the threat of  
death by slow torture. Yuusuke's gulp was audible.

But the boy recovered quickly. "At least you didn't wreck the  
joint." Yuusuke roamed around the immaculate practice space. "I  
don't see any smashed-up bottles of sake. Of course, I haven't  
looked everywhere yet."

The girl pursed her lips. "Try under the bed."

"Really?" Yuusuke elbowed Kuwabara. "So that's where you hid  
'em?"

"Oh, I forgot." She sighed. "No bed."

Was that a blush? From Hiei? At last, Kurama was able to catch  
Hiei's glance. "Hello, Hiei," he said.

Impassive, Hiei nodded, once. But the bunching of his cannonball  
shoulders belied the tranquil face. Why such tension?

And maybe the little gaijin's playing him, too.

The girl put her head down, covering her mouth with a hand. For  
once, she seemed more Japanese than American.

Kurama narrowed his eyes, thinking:

Living alone in a shrine, in the middle of the desert. Surely  
the girl's circumstances have since improved. She'll have access  
to all the loot Hiei's stashed around Makai.

Then she took her hand from her mouth.

Outside, a winnowing-bird chattered its call: "Juju, juju, bee  
bee bee." The wind sifted shadows across the floor.

The girl stared up at Kurama, unblinking, those glistening eyes  
the color of good granite. Her lips curved in a faint smile that  
would have done credit to Hiei.

Genkai clapped her hands. "Enough small talk. Time to get to  
work."

0-0-0-0-0

"Listen, three-eyes, I know who's winning this one." Hiei's  
little firebird punctuated her words with a prodding forefinger  
to Hiei's chest. He absently caught the finger and bit it.

She snatched it back, then whirled into an oversized shirt that  
read "Megallica Rules."

"Too big on you," Hiei advised.

"It's one of Kazu-kun's. He gave it to me for luck."

"So he's Kazu-kun now, is he?"

It was night now. Difficult to go back to sharing her with  
others, even after 24 hours. He thought 24 days would not have  
been enough. "How do you know who's winning?"

"I watch what you people eat." She was back to prodding his  
chest for emphasis. "You chew ginger and wasabi like it's  
celery. But I intend to push you hard."

"And the others?"

"Kazu-kun and Yuusuke will burn out early competing with each  
other." She turned to the mirror, raking her fingers through the  
fire-colored hair. "Kurama will lie back and watch what  
develops, and then he might pounce, but I doubt it. In the end  
there's nothing here at stake for him."

"You're forgetting one thing, baka onna."

"What?"

"I'm not letting you do anything to harm the little hanyou."

"Baka youkai. I'll leave the beer to you. I can take a hot  
pepper like Grant took Richmond."

"Always talking in code. And karaoke?"

"Even easier."

He had noticed that her eyes took on a gold glitter when she got  
excited. Folding his arms, settling one hip against the table,  
he gazed into the gold-sparked eyes. "I'm waiting."

"The only real competition is Kazu-Kun; he goes all-out and isn't  
afraid of anything. You won't be singing---"

"You got that right."

"Look, they all have decent voices. That's not it. Kurama's got  
good phrasing but a breathy attack and lack of support. Yuusuke's  
got a strong attack and decent pitch but his concentration's not

there and he throws too much energy away."

"You speak in made-up language from childhood or is this recent  
affliction?"

"You do know what karaoke means, don't you?"

"Someone explained it to me once."

"I hope they used little words." She rolled the oversized  
sleeves up and gave the mirror a final glance.

He grinned at her reflection. "This should prove amusing."

She spun, poked his chest again. "Just watch me, Sword Boy."

0-0-0-0-0

Hiei watched her. How could he not?

Genkai had taken them to the NekoNeko Karaoke club on Kuwabara's  
recommendation. It was noisy, smoky, packed with kids their age,  
and the first time Hiei had been in such a place.

He couldn't see himself making a return engagement.

They sat at a square table a little distance from the stage, Hiei  
and Kuwabara flanking Shay-san, with Kurama, Genkai and Urameshi  
crowding around as best they could.

Genkai ordered Urameshi to help Shay-san register for the karaoke  
line-up and choose her song. She ordered Kurama to bring the  
girl a soft drink. She pointedly ignored Hiei. Hiei just as  
pointedly ignored her.

Kurama, however, kept trying to catch Hiei's gaze. At last Hiei  
relented, cranking around in his chair to lock eyes with the  
kitsune. "What? Afraid I'll attack you again?"

"No, I was just---" Kurama sighed. "I give up."

"Really?" Hiei lifted an eyebrow. "On a permanent basis?"

Kurama's lips twitched. "Hush, now. Don't you want to listen to  
all this lovely music?"

Hiei folded his arms. "No."

The 'contest' went much as his firebird had predicted. Urameshi  
pushed forward first and sang something about fighting ("Big  
surprise," murmured Shay-san in his ear), but Hiei realized she  
had been right on the money.

Though not a musician, Hiei discovered a natural capacity for  
understanding structure and rhythm. And why not? It came from a  
lifetime of battle, and if there wasn't rhythm and structure to  
that, then nothing made sense.

Urameshi flung himself around in extravagant gestures that seemed  
to have nothing whatever to do with the basic structure of the  
music he was singing.

Nevertheless, the response was enthusiastic.

Close to the stage sat five boys in pink school uniforms like  
Kurama's, bellowing their appreciation along with the rest of the  
crowd. His firebird cheered loudest of all.

Up next was Kurama, who indeed had a pleasant way with his song,  
which was something slow and a bit mournful. But Kurama seemed  
slightly not-there, content to perch on a barstool to sing, just  
as content to slide back to the table and sip his drink to polite  
applause.

"That was beautiful." Shay-san reached across the table to brush  
Kurama's arm. "Enka, right?"

Kurama's long, leaf-colored eyes flew wide. "Minato no Blues:  
Harbor Blues. You know about enka?"

She nodded. "To know it is to love it."

Kurama shot Hiei a glance filled with surprise and delight.  
Leaning in toward Shay-san, Hiei muttered, "What's enka?"

"Shhh." Kurama placed a finger to his lips. "Later."

"Ch."

Then came Kuwabara, who bellowed something upbeat about the  
mysteries of love, which had the crowd cranked up and wanting  
more. The big idiot returned dusting his hands in a take-that  
gesture to Shay-san's cries of "Atari! Sugee!"

"You're up now, girl," said Genkai, and his firebird rose, then  
picked her way through the crowd like a cat dancing through wet  
grass.

The five boys in uniform hooted as she passed. Hiei changed  
position so he could attack them if necessary.

She hit the stage. A cone of overhead light threw her form into  
strong relief. There was no music.

In a sudden, fluid, and mocking gesture, she flung off her  
oversized shirt, and stood in a skin-fitting tank top and what  
looked like long orange underwear but wasn't.

The ill-mannered pink boys howled, banging the table with drinks,  
plates, whatever they had in hand.

The firebird held up one finger for silence. They obeyed. A  
hush settled over the room.

And the moment she opened her mouth, Hiei instantly understood  
all the foreign terms she had been speaking: attack, support,  
pitch, phrasing. A chill straked his spine. This was not mere  
singing. This was battle. And she wielded her weapon with a  
master's skill.

Hiei exchanged startled glances with the equally wide-eyed  
Kurama.

She had a powerful, almost masculine attack, and the gestures to  
go with it. Her pitch was clear, her phrasing alive; the thing  
she had called vibrato at her command.

She sang of cruel angels, and bloodied angels whirled about her  
head, their swords flashing fire.

"Crap," muttered Kuwabara. "I'm toast."

The song began slowly but soon doubled in tempo. When did she  
breathe? How could such an enormous voice come blasting from  
that tiny form?

Hiei was astounded: What did I once say to her---'I know  
everything about you?' I must have been insane.

The boys at the front table screamed for more. She obliged,  
calling out a song by name.

A pounding backbeat filled the club. She responded with a  
boneless array of cat-moves.

This one, she sang in English. From the stage she looked at  
Hiei, gold once more sparking her eyes: Feel the heat.

Another chill ripped across his shoulders. Was this a dare? A  
challenge? He yearned to decipher its meaning.

The song ended with an oddly soft little flourish and a  
serpentine wave of her hand. The boys in pink hollered for more.  
"Elvis this time! Elvis!"

Genkai leaned forward, pointing at Kuwabara. "All right, you.  
Go up there and get her. Another five minutes and she'll own the  
damned place."

Kuwabara pushed his way onstage, scooped her up despite the  
crowd's protests, and carried her out.

Hiei knew Genkai was studying his reactions as well. He didn't  
care---in fact, was gaping at Shay-san as she and the big idiot  
passed their table.

And she, riding in the moron's arms, caught Hiei's eye, gave him  
the thumbs-up sign. "I stuck the dismount," she called.

Whatever THAT meant. With some difficulty, Hiei got to his feet  
and joined the others as they filed out.

Shay-san was breathless and laughing when Kuwabara deposited her  
on the sidewalk. "Arigatou, niichan!" she said to him.

Kuwabara blushed crimson. "Don't mention it," he muttered.

Hiei rolled his eyes. "So it's niichan now, is it?"

The firebird shot him a pleading glance. "Will you go back and  
get my shirt?"

Hiei snorted. "Make your 'little brother' do it."

0-0-0-0-0

The group had returned to the temple for Genkai's Test, Part Two,  
and were well into the ordeal.

Hiei sat at a low table opposite Shay-san, placid for the moment.  
He would certainly require a talk with her alone. But for  
now---Kurama and the others were crowded around them, making  
private speech impossible.

The candles on the low table burned with a soft golden cast,  
lighting their faces from below. Genkai, impassive with her  
cigarette, looked on, no doubt assessing and grading them all.

Hot peppers had appeared, all colors and sizes, from eggplant  
monstrosities to delicate pink nubs and everything in between.  
Since the firebird had declared herself the resident expert in  
all things to combat the effect of hot peppers ("Bubbles and  
sugar, salt and fat."), an array of sodas, chips, and bowls of  
sugar littered the table, along with dishes of sour cream, now  
well-used.

"Was it tough getting the sour cream?" Urameshi asked during a  
lull in the battle.

"Not at all," Shay-san replied. "I got regular cream. And then  
Hiei looked at it."

"Stop lying, woman," Hiei admonished. But he was laughing  
inside.

"Now don't be ashamed to cry," the firebird informed them.  
"Better men than you have fallen in these fields."

"Outta my way," growled Kuwabara. "Kuwabara the man is here to  
claim victory!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Urameshi flashed his  
friend and rival a predator's grin.

Here again, the contest went much as Shay-san had predicted:  
Kuwabara and Urameshi battled it out between themselves as if the  
outcome mattered, while Kurama nibbled delicately at one or two  
of the peppers and then hung back, watching, sometimes urging  
Shay-san on.

And Hiei smoked them all.

But the hot pepper competition was winding down.

At each turn Genkai had brought out another basket filled with a  
new variety of pepper.

They had gone through baskets of oxblood-colored anchos, which  
barely had a taste, through red-striped Chinese Firecrackers,  
into pointy green jalapenos (very crunchy and rather good) to  
long skinny banana peppers, then worked themselves up to what  
Shay-san warned would "separate the men from the candy-pants."

Only two peppers remained: the habanero, widely acknowleged at  
300,000 Scoville units---a measure of heat---to be one of the  
world's most incendiary peppers, and the last, nameless pepper.

Sweating profusely, Urameshi took a half-hearted sniff at the  
little habanero, which was almost the color of Kuwabara's hair,  
then shook his head. In truth, he had failed at the Devil's  
Heart, a fingernail-sized pepper of pinkish hue and half the heat  
of this one.

A crimson-faced Kuwabara bit into the habanero, but had to spit  
it out and dive for the sour cream.

"Weaklings," scoffed Shay-san, munching the pepper to no apparent  
effect. "In Arizona we wean our babies on these."

Hiei took his habanero at a bite, seeds and all. It stung. A  
lot. Kurama chuckled behind one hand.

"Next?" Turning, his firebird raised those winged brows.

Grinning like a shark now, Genkai pushed the last basket to the  
middle of the table.

The peppers nesting in it were pure white, but gave off a  
greenish-yellow glow, like fluorite. Hiei could smell their  
acrid odor from where he sat.

"Any takers?" asked Genkai.

Kurama shook his head. "In case none of you noticed, I left off  
at the jalapenos."

Shay-san batted her lashes at Kurama. "Hey. I got no Spirit  
Sword, can't use a Rei Gun, can't make a Rose Whip, and I don't  
have a dragon on my arm. Gotta let me have me this."

"Take it, please." Kurama gave a mock-shudder.

"Who wants a shot at this batch?" repeated Genkai.

Urameshi and Kuwabara exchanged wary glances. "Uhhh," Kuwabara  
began. "So this one's hotter than that haba-whatsis?"

"Easily twice its strength," said Genkai. "Maybe more."

"Forget it." Urameshi tore open a bag of salty chips and shook  
them into his mouth.

"Fold." Kuwabara gulped more soda.

"Bunch of chokin' wuss-bunnies." Shay-san beamed.

"You're inhuman," croaked Urameshi.

"That's as may be." She flipped back her oversized Megallica  
sleeves, thumping that impossibly tiny fist onto the table,  
glaring her gold-flecked challenge at Hiei.

Who would have laughed, except that she was dead serious.

"Well, Dragon Boy, it's down to you and me."

Hiei allowed a covert smile. "So it seems."

With one final venomous glare, she reached for the white pepper.

And Hiei shot out his hand, closing it gently around her wrist.

"I resign," he said.

She sat blinking at him with those gumdrop eyes, all the  
firesparks gone from them.

"You can't do that!" squawked Kuwabara.

"It's what they say in chess," Hiei insisted.

"This isn't chess," groaned Urameshi, mopping his brow. "It's  
torture."

Genkai rose and clapped her hands. "The Test is over. Tomorrow  
I'll tell you boneheads whether she's good for anything other  
than squirting out little hanyou."

0-0-0-0-0

For once, Hiei wasn't quite sure if his firebird was play-angry  
or mad for real. Alone in their room now, they stood a little  
apart, a single tea light barely illuminating their forms.

"You let me win," she accused, peeling off the oversized shirt  
and slinging it at him.

"No, I let you live."

She scowled. "What the Hello Kitty does THAT mean?"

Hiei favored her with a smug grin. "Last pepper was from Makai.  
Even I can't eat it."

He waited for her to sling something else at him, preferably that  
tank top. But she only snorted, shaking her head. "Genkai.  
What a card."

Going to her, Hiei put his hands on her shoulders. "And you.  
What a show-off."

"But of course. It's how I made my living."

"Eating hot peppers?"

"Baka."

"Karaoke then?"

"In a way." She picked up the Megallica shirt, shook it out,  
then placed it on their table. "You'd be surprised how many  
trade shows need people who can---"

He blinked. "Trade shows?"

"Large venues for retailers and wholesalers to sell stuff," she  
explained. "Like hot pepper products. And they hire  
entertainers." She turned her head, gazing at the sliding door  
that led to the garden. "There was this one pepper show---after  
it ended, Ronni and I battled it out with the professional  
tasters."

"Go on," he urged. She was radiant now, a point of flame in the  
darkened room.

Hiei thought that something profound was taking place, something  
that lurked just beyond the rim of his perceptions. If he could  
just bring it into focus---

"In between tastings," she continued, sputtering with laughter,  
"Ronni and I squirted whipped cream into our mouths straight from  
the can."

Her mirth was infectious. Hiei found himself laughing too,  
picturing the two young priestesses in their miko garb, sporting  
whipped cream moustaches.

But of course, they weren't really priestesses.

She let out a sigh. "Lord, how I miss that girl."

Yes, he could understand that much; his own friendship with  
Kurama now teetered on a cliff of misunderstandings. "So who  
won?"

"Who do you think, Sword Boy?"

"And 'stuck the dismount---' What is this?"

"Gymnastics term for a perfect landing. Now that particular show  
was in Vegas." She glinted at him. "I stayed on a while working  
as a magician's assistant. That's where it helps to be little  
and flexible."

"I had no idea. I think I'll sell you as geisha."

"Is tomorrow soon enough for you?" She leaned into him. "I'll be  
a good one. Make a fortune."

He chuckled into her hair. "Too bad I've already despoiled you.  
Drives the price down."

When she didn't smash the volley back in his face, he knew indeed  
something was wrong. She pulled away from him, perching cross-  
legged on the edge of the table.

He came to stand in front of her. "Tell me."

In silence, she shook her head.

"You're not getting any rest until you do."

Outside, a breeze riffled the greenery, and she slipped past him  
to open the sliding door. He joined her.

"Hiei." Turning, she put her head against his chest. "I'm  
sorry. It wasn't---I wasn't--" Her voice faltered. "You  
weren't the one who---you didn't---"

Understanding quite well what she meant, he slid a hand against  
her lips, silencing her.

So he had not been her first mate.

He didn't know how to feel about what she had just told him, nor  
how to react. But he had to keep moving forward, putting one  
foot in front of another. So he simply jerked his head,  
indicating the floor mat. "Baka onna. Go to sleep. Tomorrow  
Genkai makes you jump through hoops again."

0-0-0-0-0

White Sands Serpent sat in near-dark.

Ambient light bounced off the wind-rippled gypsum fields below,  
bathing the room with a faint wash of cobalt blue. It lit the  
lowered head of the miko who crouched at his feet, picked out the  
lines of his pale hand as he plucked an obsidian globe the size  
of an orange from its silver base.

The globe balanced in his palm, its seven continents outlined in  
mother-of-pearl. The seas shifted in everchanging tones of  
purple-green-black.

At the Serpent's touch, the globe swelled until it grew to the  
size of a basketball.

One white hair undid itself from his braid. He caught its tip  
between thumb and forefinger, skillfully threading the hair into  
the globe. The seas whirled and crashed until the end of the  
strand protruded from a tiny archipelago in the Pacific.

"Ah." He shut his eyes. A smile stretched his lips. "I can  
feel her. I think she's---"

The miko shivered.

"Yes. I sense two of them." He pulled the haggard miko close.  
She offered no resistance. "The other girl. That little demon."  
He gave a wicked laugh. "The drive to proximity is a powerful  
one, wouldn't you say, my dear?"

With a deft movement he extracted that single long white hair.  
The hair shattered into a thousand crystals, the globe shrinking  
back to the size of an orange.

"Let them have their fun for now. Soon, thanks to you, I will  
have them both."

He tightened his grip on the miko until she was limp in his arms.  
When he let go, she drifted to the floor, like the last leaf  
falling in autumn.

-30-

(To be continued---does Shay-san have any powers? And can the  
Serpent be stopped?)


	16. IB C 16: Spellbound

Please read Disclaimer in Ch. 1.

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 16, Spellbound  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T

Summary: Just when life seems to be settling down, a new twist  
stuns everyone, especially Kurama.

Idiot Beloved Ch 16: Spellbound  
by  
Kenshin

It was early morning outside Genkai's temple, with dew still  
sparking the grass, making it somewhat damp and uncomfortable to  
be sitting on one's knees. Kurama supposed he could stand it;  
his mood was good and getting better by the moment.

Hiei, Yuusuke and Kuwabara were already present and settling in;  
they awaited only Genkai and Shay-san.

Kurama smiled. Of a certainty, he was warming up toward Hiei's  
little gaijin. The night before, Shay-san had revealed a side of  
herself that both startled and amused him.

And whatever effect that revelation had on Hiei, the fire demon  
struggled to conceal it. Kuwabara and Yuusuke were grumbling,  
scratching, yawning (a normal enough occurrence), while Hiei was  
doing one of his excellent imitations of a disinterested  
observer.

Nice try, Hiei, thought Kurama.

At last Genkai-shihan appeared from the forest, walking up to the  
clearing, girl in tow. Reaching the group, both women stopped,  
facing them. The old woman got out a cigarette and Hiei shot her  
a spark to light it.

The young woman remained motionless.

Kurama arranged himself to sit in back of everyone, close to  
Hiei, angling for a view not only of the action, but the  
reaction. Kuwabara griped about the wet grass; Yuusuke seemed  
half-asleep, and Hiei knelt with his back ramrod-straight,  
looking only at Genkai and the firebird.

Funny how they'd all started calling her that.

Kurama shifted position, poked at the ramrod back with a  
mischievous foot. Without bothering to turn, Hiei swatted him.

"Nervous?" whispered Kurama.

Hiei shook his head. "I'm never nervous."

"Liar."

"Bite me."

Kurama snickered. "Give me an excuse." And was gratified to  
hear Hiei's soft snort of a laugh.

Last night had been interesting. More than interesting. Fun  
watching the girl show off, fun watching Kuwabara and Yuusuke  
burn each other out in mock-combat, and, most fun of all,  
watching Hiei try to remain impassive.

"Well?" Genkai blew out a long plume of smoke. "You boneheads  
done playing footsie?"

"Yes, Master Genkai," they chorused.

"Good." Genkai tilted her head at Shay-san. "I've had adequate  
time to perform a solid evaluation, and I tested her in every way  
that wouldn't cause her permanent harm---or that little mongrel  
either."

Hiei was still pretending not to care. And the girl was standing  
next to Genkai, almost in a trance, head down, the gold of the  
morning light outlining her hair. Her very passivity brought to  
Kurama's mind a slave at auction, listening to the marketeers  
point out her vices and virtues.

Poor little thing, thought Kurama: Trying so hard to fit in, to  
impress. Dragged from her homeland by a demon, and now subjected  
to Genkai's brutality of 'schooling.' And Hiei can be---a  
handful; Yuusuke a bit of a clown. She's got a friend in  
Kuwabara, but she could use another. Perhaps I should take her  
to lunch, or better still, introduce her properly to Kaasan.

"Well." Genkai jerked her eyes at the girl. "As I suspected.  
She's useless."

Hiei growled softly. Kurama placed a hand on his shoulder.  
"Now, now. Calm down."

"The way this girl is at present," Genkai went on, "she's only  
fit for gaudy, worthless crap, like theatrical wushu."

"Theatrical---what's that?" Kuwabara hissed, elbowing Yuusuke.

"Fake movie-fighting," mouthed Yuusuke. "Harder than it looks."

Genkai raised her voice. "But to proceed. Forget about the  
possibility of her possessing any sword skills."

Hiei gave a half-grunt, half-laugh.

Genkai smoked furiously, speaking between puffs. "She was ruined  
by bad training and it's too late to make up for it now."

"I saw her," Hiei sidemouthed to Kuwabara. "No lie."

Kuwabara gave a distinct sound of disappointment.

"For a human girl of her size and weight," Genkai continued,  
"she's got slightly above average strength. Well, her legs are  
quite powerful. And she's got an almost freakish flexibility."

Shay-san and Hiei most pointedly did not look at one another  
then.

Is that a flush on her face? And did Hiei just turn loose a  
flash of ki---involuntarily? Oh, thought Kurama, How kawaii.

"As for breath control and aerobic capacity, she scores higher  
than anyone here. Anyone human, that is. You can thank a  
certain anatomical quirk---plus her dance training."

"She's a dancer?" squeaked Kuwabara.

"Moron." Hiei shot the big boy a pitying glance. "Were you in the  
same club as us last night?" He added, sotto voce: "You should  
see her when she thinks no one's watching."

Shay-san came out of her trance to fling a glint at Hiei. "I  
always know when you're watching, Sword Boy."

"Don't interrupt," snapped Genkai.

"Yes, Hiei, pay attention." Kurama gave Hiei another playful jab.  
"I know it's difficult for someone of your limited intellect, but  
do make an attempt."

Hiei's response could not be repeated in mixed company.

"Which does lead to her spiritual sensitivity. It's nearly on a  
level with Kuwabara's." Genkai pulled an expression of mild  
disgust. "All untrained, of course. She's nothing but air and  
fire. A complete waste of skin."

Suppressing a giggle, Kurama watched Hiei carefully for signs of  
anger.

"She's not a waste of anything," Hiei muttered.

"Oh." Genkai spoke almost as an afterthought. "There is one  
other thing." She nodded at the girl, who drew herself to  
attention. "Go on---show them."

Gulping, Shay-san glanced first at Genkai, then Hiei, as if  
appealing for help. "Th-the one you taught me just now?"

"Yes." Genkai pointed to a spot some ten feet away, where a dog-  
sized hunk of granite thrust up from the thick grass. "Do it  
over near that rock."

Kurama wondered what sort of theatrical wushu routine the old  
woman and girl had worked out. The other boys were whispering to  
one another, in variations of wonder-what-Genkai's-up-to.

Genkai strolled to the rock; the girl followed. Kurama spared a  
glance at Hiei, who was giving a superb imitation of a rock  
himself.

He doesn't have the faintest idea what's going to happen either,  
thought Kurama. How delicious.

Genkai turned to face them, stubbing out her cigarette, putting  
her hands behind her back.

"I need a volunteer," she said.

"Not I," Kurama said.

Hiei rose in one fluid motion, but Genkai waved him back down.  
"Anyone but you."

"Ooo, pick me!" Kuwabara's hand shot up.

Genkai pointed her chin at Yuusuke, catching him in mid-yawn.  
"How about you, slacker?"

"Fine, grandma." Rising, Yuusuke brushed off his jeans.  
"Whatever."

"Come stand in front of the rock, Yuusuke." Genkai bared her  
teeth in a smile. "I can all but guarantee you'll survive."

Yuusuke rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks for the warning." He made  
his way over to them, yawning, cracking his knuckles. At last he  
stood facing Shay-san.

"Now!" cried Genkai.

There was a moment when nothing happened, except for a rustling  
of wind through the trees. Then---

The air stilled, thickened.

And the girl set herself, splitting her legs in something akin to  
a martial arts stance, thrusting her hands in front of her,  
murmuring a cluster of words, then, fingers flying in a counting  
pattern, cried out:

"Ichi! Ni! San! Yon!" She snapped out numbers with the same  
crisp authority that had blown away the karaoke competition.

Something was building, pulsing all around them. As though an  
enormous ki fought to escape, contained by a barrier made of  
butterfly wings.

Kuwabara shuddered. Kurama's scalp tingled. He dug his fingers  
into the grass, crouching, pressing closer to Hiei, almost  
seeking protection. Hiei emitted a soft hiss.

The ki crackled against their eardrums. Kurama had to fight to  
remain still.

Teeth bared, the girl shouted, numbers blurring, impossibly fast:  
"Go-Roku-Hachi-Nana-Kyuu-Juu-Juuichi-Juu ni, SAAAAAAAAAAA!"

With Shay-san's final snarl, the air burst to pieces.

Yuusuke leapt straight upward, arms flung out. Around him the  
stone dissolved into a whirl of a dozen silver stars.

Hiei sprang to his feet, reaching for the katana---

---just as Yuusuke landed back on the ground, tucked his hands  
underneath his arms to mimic wings, and began to cluck.

Like a chicken.

Hiei stood down. The girl fell gasping to one knee.

And the stars emitted a final blaze of light, then coalesced,  
once again a mere stone.

"Holy crap." Yuusuke glanced around, dazed. "Holy freakin'  
crap. What just happened here?"

Kuwabara hugged himself. "D-dunno, but that was scary."

The girl herself looked every bit as dazed as Yuusuke.

Genkai turned to face them, snickering, lighting another  
cigarette. "Oh, that last bit? The cluck-like-a-chicken thing?  
An old piece of stage business. A hypnotist's trick." She  
turned a quelling look on Yuusuke. "Yes. It was my idea."

The boy clenched his fists. "Yeah, fine, you old hag, but  
what---"

Genkai blew a stream of smoke into Yuusuke's face. "She's a  
Spellcaster, you dolt."

Hiei's mouth literally dropped open.

And that, thought Kurama, starting to breathe again, that had  
only been a stone. Until.

The girl put a hand on her ribs, wincing. As if in answer Hiei  
shot to his feet again, instantly in Protector Mode.

"I'm fine," she gasped. "A little out of shape is all."

Hiei relaxed just a hairbreadth, but his eyes remained wide, the  
red irises pea-sized.

"All right, nitwit, you can sit down." Genkai shoo'ed Yuusuke  
back to the group, where he and Kuwabara excitedly debriefed one  
another, complete with hand gestures and furtive glances at the  
girl.

A Spellcaster, thought Kurama. How many times could we have made  
use of one?

Eventually Genkai raised her voice. Chatter ceased. "Among  
other things, she'll need to learn proper breathing. Luckily she  
has an enormous set of lungs--"

Yuusuke inexplicably giggled, then stifled himself.

"---which goes along with her second anatomical quirk: a very  
small stomach. You may have noticed."

Hiei nodded. "At first I thought she just doesn't eat. Lives on  
air. But then I see that she goes back an hour and a half later.  
All day long, nibble, nibble."

"Of course, soon she won't be able to breathe at all," said  
Genkai. "When the little mongrel bastard begins to grow---"

"It's not a bastard," corrected Hiei.

"She'll also need to learn some form of self-defense for now."  
Genkai's mouth quirked up. "One of you boys teach her how to  
stick an elbow in a man's throat."

"She already knows that," said Hiei. "Spellcaster." He shook  
his head, eyes still wide.

"Spellcaster!" Kuwabara grinned ear to ear. "Sugee!"

"And also something of a third-rate battle strategist," added  
Genkai.

"Yes." The girl settled crosslegged on the grass, still seeming  
a bit dazed. "Superb at huddling on the sidelines telling  
everyone else what to do."

"Hey." Yuusuke appeared to have gotten over his embarrassment  
quickly. "I'll take all the help I can get."

"Human Spellcasters aren't uncommon." Genkai squinted at the  
cigarette burning in her hand, crushed it out, and tossed it  
away. "A lot of them end up on stage, one way or another. But  
depending on the country they were born in, they often go  
untrained. Some of the potentially greatest Spellcasters threw  
themselves away on nothing."

"Elvis," Shay-san said, out of nowhere.

"Elvis was cool." Kuwabara stuck a thumb in the air. "Just not  
as cool as Megallica."

"Elvis who?" said Hiei. Kurama snickered behind his hand and  
gave Hiei another playful dig with his foot.

Genkai turned to the girl, raised an eyebrow. "How did you know  
that about Elvis?"

"I didn't." Shay-san's hands twisted together in her lap. "It  
just seems---here it's decades since his death, and he's still an  
international star. People can't get enough of him. The  
Spellcasting must have made its way onto his recordings."

Genkai sighed. "I never could reach him. Or maybe by the time I  
did it was too late." Then she added, almost as an afterthought.  
"But we might make something of this one."

"Know what, Hiei?" Yuusuke moved to sit behind the fire demon.  
"When you smile, you're not even all that ugly."

Without looking back, Hiei snapped a spark that set Yuusuke's  
hair on fire. But only the ends.

Chuckling, Kurama shifted position to ease his legs. And while  
Kuwabara and Yuusuke were flailing around, snuffing out the  
embers, and Hiei had gone to speak to Genkai, the girl in  
question came over and knelt, facing him, head down, voice  
pitched so only he could hear.

"Kurama-san," she murmured. "I know I came in here and busted  
everything up."

"No, not at all, it's just that..." He trailed off, searching  
for the right phrase. It's just that... what?

The smell of burning hair drifted toward them; then a breeze  
carried the stench away.

She pressed on. "I know no one really wants me around except  
him." She nodded in Hiei's direction. "And I also know that  
whatever I manage to do in this life, I will never, ever be  
worthy of him."

"Untrue." Smiling, Kurama reached for words of reassurance. "I  
don't know what Hiei has told you about his---"

Her head snapped up, and her eyes locked onto Kurama's.

Who stopped. Was it just a trick of the morning light, or did  
her eyes blaze as gold as her hair?

"But regardless of that---" she said, "he's mine. So hands off."

And then she was on her feet, pattering away quick as a wood-elf,  
leaving him cold with shock.

-30-

(To be continued: The hunt resumes!)


	17. IB C 17: The Care And Feeding

Please read Disclaimer in Ch. 1.

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 17, The Care And Feeding Of Demon Husbands  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T

Summary: A phone call from a friend should be a happy occasion,  
but things are never that easy when Hiei's involved.

A/N: Fugu is a type of fish considered a delicacy in Japan.  
Unfortunately, it also has a poison gland. Even when the gland's  
been removed by an expert sushi chef, the nerve toxin can numb  
the diner's lips, and there are always isolated cases of  
improperly-prepared fugu causing death.

Again, thanks to everyone who's reading and enjoying this!

Idiot Beloved Ch 17: The Care And Feeding of Demon Husbands  
by  
Kenshin

That there was something 'different' about Hiei, Shayla Kidd had  
known from the beginning. At first she chalked it up to his  
'border-agent' status.

She pondered that---and other things---as she trudged back toward  
the temple, exhausted and sweat-soaked from another lesson in  
which Genkai had tried to cram a month's worth of training into a  
single day.

Part of that training entailed breath control: different from  
either a dancer or a singer's, though it was closer to the  
pattern of singing. Another part, control of what Genkai called  
ki--spirit aura.

Could've used some of that before, she thought, hobbling closer  
to the temple, before I disgraced myself in front of Kurama. Oh,  
well. Back to Hiei.

Different, yes. I could see the light in him. That Hero-with-a-  
capital-H bearing.

And you Spellcaster, huh? Did you cast a spell on him?

Out at a meeting with the rest of Team Urameshi, Hiei was not  
around to ask.

Spellcaster.

A stubborn little seed of doubt insisted that her so-called  
powers were nothing more than stagecraft, that Genkai had somehow  
given her unseen help.

A bird exploded from a nearby bush. Shayla was too drained even  
to startle.

I know I'm out of place here, but---

She blew out a long breath. It would be all right. Genkai  
couldn't kill her with training, and compared to some of the nuns  
Shay had known, the old reiki master was kindness itself.

Tired she was, though, and no doubts about that. The bed---a  
gift from Uncle Paul and Aunt Carmel---had arrived earlier that  
morning, and she anticipated a nice lie-down.

'Soldier of the boundary,' she'd called Hiei, in her pitiful  
Japanese. How close you came without knowing, she mused.

But it was only after she'd seen Hiei fling El Chupacabra hard  
enough to break its neck, then right the Jeep one-handed, that it  
hit her: 'different' meant 'non-human.'

You ought to have picked up on it sooner, she thought, nearing  
the temple doors: Your uncle's one of the world's premiere  
demonologists.

Except you were too busy staring at your Soldier of the Boundary.  
Good grief, you were as bad as Ronni.

Wonder if he'll want to bring me to Makai to meet the folks. Oh,  
wait---he doesn't have any.

What meager knowledge Shayla had of Makai she'd gleaned from  
short bursts of conversation with Genkai and the boys---plus the  
occasional, reluctant nugget pried from Hiei himself.

A place of great dangers and evils, though. That much she  
surmised. She wondered whether it approximated Hell.

The sound of jingling burst into her ruminations.

Great, she thought, propping both hands on her knees to suck  
oxygen. I'm hearing bells.

No. That was the phone. Who---?

No one phones me at the temple, thought Shay, gathering the last  
scraps of her shredded energy to run up the temple steps and push  
through the doors.

Well, almost no one.

Father Brian had called a couple of times about the wedding  
arrangements. Uncle Paul, once, with astonished good wishes, and  
then a second time to ask how much money to send and what kind of  
gifts.

Maybe Team Urameshi had changed its collective mind and wanted  
her to attend the meeting after all. Good luck with that, she  
thought, ruefully glancing down at her sodden shirt.

She bolted into their room and snatched the receiver off its  
cradle. "Moshi mosh'?"

(This was what Genkai-shihan had taught her to say when answering  
the phone; leaving off the last "i" would supposedly prevent low-  
level demons from speaking.)

A heavy crackle of interference, but no voice. She was about to  
hang up when someone spoke over the noise.

"Is this---Shayla Kidd?"

Ronni! Her friend's voice electrified her. "Debbie? Omigod,  
Debbie! I can't believe it's you!"

There was no answering shriek of "Debbieee!" Nevertheless,  
Shayla peeled off her shirt, dove into another one, and perched  
on the bed while the crackling line cleared.

Which took some time. Time enough to recall how Hiei had reacted  
when she tried to explain The Debbie Thing:

("You call each other Debbie." He narrowed those magnificent  
garnet eyes.

"Yup."

"And this is not your name."

"Nope."

"And this is not her name."

"You got it."

"No, I don't.")

Remembering Hiei's expression, she snickered.

"Shayla?"

"Yeah, it's me." Sighing with relief, she raised her voice above  
the static. "Ronnikins? Bad connection, ne?"

"Yes." Ronni sounded flat, mechanical. "Bad connection."

"I can't tell you how glad I am to hear from you! I've been  
worried, you little scoundrel! How did you get our number? From  
Uncle Paul?"

Between the crackles, Ronni said, "I hear you got yourself a  
boyfriend..."

Shayla settled back on the bed, twisting the phone cord in one  
hand. "Correction, Debbie-girl. Not just boyfriend. Husband."

Now, nothing but static.

To be candid, Shayla longed to speak with someone about Hiei.  
About little details that left her weak-kneed, like the way he  
pronounced certain English words, or the look in his eyes when a  
fight loomed on the horizon. About their seamless, easy banter,  
as though they had known one another all their lives.

About other, seamless things as well. Mirakuru romansu, indeed.

Ronni would be perfect. Keiko was much too young, Shizuru much  
too cynical, and Hiei had moved in on her so fast, she missed out  
on all the silly, heartstopping do-you-think-he-likes-me  
nonsense.

And as for Yukina---well. You could hardly talk about that with  
a man's sister. Besides, Yukina had returned to her realm of  
ice.

"Hello? Ronnums? Still alive?"

"Husband? You said... husband?"

"Right. You know. One of those things that comes with a ring  
attached. You've read about them in magazines, seen them on the  
news, heard wild rumors whispered on the desert plains."

"Oh my."

"Oh my is right."

A long silence. Then: "I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Thanks." Whoah, Shayla thought: Ronni's sounding a bit off.

"Yeahh, sooo, how is he?"

This was what she needed. Sinking deeper into the bed, Shayla  
purred, "Remarkably low-maintainance."

"Oh?"

"Eats what I make him and thinks I'm brilliant at it. Likes food  
that fights back. He would catch and eat live fugu without  
removing the poison gland. I fixed some guacamole once, and he  
ate it with a spoon."

"Eww!" Ronni's familiar giggle brought out one of her own.

"Eww, yes, but sometimes it's hard to get hold of the chips way  
out here."

Ronni sighed. "What else about him?"

"He's not a complainer. Doesn't whine 'Where are my socks.' Even  
likes my singing."

"Must be a Japanese thing."

"Heyyy!" Now Shayla was laughing so hard she was snorting like a  
pig.

"I bet he leaves the toilet seat up."

"No." She had to press a hand against her ribs to stop the  
laughter, then lost it again. "He g-goes in the l-litterbox."

"Are you serious?"

"No. Joke, Ronni. Joke. I know it's been a while but try to  
keep up. God, it's good to talk to you again! How's your Mom  
and everyone? They met him, you know. Didn't they mention?"

"Fine."

"So you're over your latest Creepazoid?"

Crackle of static.

"Ronni?"

"I hear he's a little guy."

Rolling onto her back, Shayla snickered. "Nothin' little 'bout  
Hiei."

"WoohooHOO!"

Now that, Shayla thought, was the old Ronni.

"You go, girl!" crowed Ronni.

Shayla twisted the phone cord round her forefinger. "I was  
talking about his spirit."

"Suuuuure you were."

"You just keep your mind out of the gutter, Debbie."

"So that's his name. Hiei."

"Uhh..." Shayla bit her lip. Should she mention the little  
hanyou? There was so much information... maybe she should ease  
Ronni into it?

And something stopped her.

As if some unseen force, some guardian angel, whispered to her  
from the corner of the room: "Shhhh."

She had a lifetime's experience taking heed of such warnings. It  
had saved her on many an occasion.

So she switched to trivialities. "Hiei's got his quirks. He  
can't stand perfume and won't let me shave under my arms."

If she expected a big 'Ewwww' from Ronni, she got nothing but  
crackle instead.

"No perfume." Ronni's voice was slow, measured.

"Yeah, well---There's a couple he doesn't mind. Jean Nate, for  
one."

"Thank goodness for small favors."

"Not that we can afford perfume right now. Anyway he asks little  
enough of me."

"Are you allowed to use deodorant?"

"Baking soda."

"Thank goodness for small favors," Ronni repeated. Then: "Does  
he know about your past?"

Shay gripped the phone. "What difference does that make? Stick  
to perfume and guacamole."

"Perfume." Ronni sounded as though she was having trouble  
remembering what that word meant.

Blinking, Shayla took advantage of the long pause to think.  
Ronni was pinging between normal and mental in a way that  
Shayla's announcement could not explain. Come to think of it,  
where was that girl anyway? "So are you home, Ronnikins, or back  
at the shrine? Because I have to warn you, maybe you should stay  
away from---"

"Uhhhh, listen."

Shay strained to hear over the interference.

"Give me your address. So I can send some chips. As a wedding  
present."

"I don't see why not. Got a pencil?" She told Ronni how to  
reach her, and that she would be eternally grateful for the  
chips. "The real heavy ones," she added. "The restaurant kind.  
You know what my guac's like."

"Uhm, Shayla?"

"What?"

"He loves you, right?"

She blinked. "Weeelll... Hiei doesn't approve of PDA but---"

"He would protect you?"

"Protect? Oh. Without question. Hiei is---"

Click.

"Ronni? Ronnikins? Hello? Earth to Debbie---"

Nothing but a dial tone.

"Crap on a cracker," Shay muttered.

0-0-0-0-0

White Sands Serpent laid his hand over the miko's, pressing the  
receiver into the cradle. "Enough!"

She did not speak, but turned her face from him.

He let her go. Sliding into the chair near the globe stand, he  
reached for the ebony orb, balanced it in his palm.

Then paused, glanced over at the miko.

"It's all right," he added, his voice low and soothing now.  
"You've done well. I have their exact location; I can take my  
time, perhaps even send a 'scout' or two their way before I move  
in on them."

The fallen miko remained as she was, both hands clinging to the  
telephone, as if it represented a lifeline.

0-0-0-0-0

Shayla sat cross-legged on the bed, gnawing on her right thumb.  
Bad connection maybe, she thought, but something was not right  
with Ronni.

Even Ronni's voice sounded odd, as if emerging from strained  
vocal chords, her usual rapid-fire delivery filled with stops and  
starts.

Maybe it was nothing more than a case of nerves, talking to the  
newlywed friend.

Like fun it was. And Ronni hadn't even cracked a single  
bridesmaid joke.

Could Ronni have latched onto another creepazoid so soon after  
the last? Some goon who hovered near the phone, so Ronni  
couldn't speak freely?

Or was something wrong with Ronni's parents, Helen and Robert?  
Worse, had something happened to the two little brothers?  
Suppose those possessed bulls had returned to wreak havoc on the  
ranch. Now there was an unpleasant thought. And with no Hiei to  
intervene---

Shayla sat bolt upright. Oh, no. Not drugs again. Please, God,  
anything but that. Ronni had been clean for more than three  
years now.

But... this wasn't like the effect of drugs. Shayla was all too  
familiar with the vague and loopy way Ronni spoke when she was  
loaded. Time after time, she had come upon her friend, sprawled  
on the floor, dragged Ronni to her feet, and walked her around  
until she'd regained a semblence of consciousness.

Or drove her to the hospital.

No, this seemed as though someone was controlling Ronni, slapping  
her on and off like a light switch.

Shayla glanced around the room. Mid-afternoon, and no one here  
to share her worries. Hiei was no doubt battling for her very  
right to exist among Team Urameshi; Genkai had released her for  
the day and was likely still razzing her from the woods.

You're on your own, Debbie-girl.

So. If Ronni got the phone number from Helen and Robert, why  
wouldn't she know Hiei's name?

Maybe it really was just the bad connection.

But Shayla Kidd, wielder of certain powers according to Master  
Genkai, niece of famed demonologist Thomas McNeil, wife of Jagan  
Master Hiei, did not believe so.

An unwanted quote slipped into her mind: 'What is begun in sin  
shall end in misery.'

Hell to pay.

All right, she thought, lifting her head with a touch of  
defiance. I met him. I wanted him. I took him. Even knowing  
it was wrong.

He's blameless. Raised in Makai, unaware of such ---  
restrictions.

The fault is mine alone. Eve, disobedient one, responsible for  
mankind's fall. That's me.

And the price could be my best friend.

Where was Ronni and what was wrong with her? Plucking up the  
receiver again, Shayla punched in a series of numbers.

But as she waited for the connection, the knowledge struck her  
like a hammer. Heart pounding, throat tightening, she thought:  
Here's Hell, and it's payday.

-30-

(To be continued---with a strategy session)


	18. IB C 18: Stratego

Please read Disclaimer in Ch. 1.

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 18, Stratego  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T  
Summary: More startling news, and the beginning of a rift in the  
group, spells trouble for Hiei.

Thanks as always to everyone who's reading, enjoying, and leaving comments---I really look forward to them! 

Idiot Beloved Ch 18: Stratego  
by  
Kenshin

Kurama was still wearing his school uniform when he strode into  
the park, the weather flashing between sun and clouds.

He kept one eye on the jaki that followed him. Different from  
the last one, quicker and furtive, which spoke of a higher degree  
of intelligence. It was pale gray, almost white---poor  
camouflage for a park in the human world.

Darting into the cover of trees, Kurama knew the jaki would  
follow.

As it did, jumping to a gingko branch in front of him. "Hiei  
will betray you," it said.

"Oh?"

"But you already knew that." Flattening its ears, it leered at  
him. "Protect yourself while you still have time."

"It's you I don't have time for." Conjuring the Rose Whip, Kurama  
flicked it at the jaki, intending to dispatch it at once and find  
Hiei.

But it dodged his stroke, hurling itself into a hollow at the  
base of the tree.

Gone. Damn it.

Drawing a deep breath to banish the momentary annoyance, Kurama  
cast about for the familiar ki. I'm here, Hiei, he  
thought: Where are you?

Hiei wasn't in the trees. Near one, rather: on a bench, in full  
sight of the crowd.

Legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, eyes shut, Hiei  
appeared to be worshiping the sun, bare arms thrown carelessly  
across the back of the bench.

The sight was a bit unnerving.

Kurama made his approach silent. If Hiei sensed the kitsune, he  
gave no indication. At last, Kurama spoke. "Aren't you afraid  
someone will get the drop on you?"

"Terrified." Hiei's voice was rich with lazy self-content.

Kurama perched on the edge of the bench, but Hiei neither opened  
his eyes nor shifted position, which was odd enough in itself.  
Then---

"Two things," Hiei began. "Each worse than the last."

"Ah. So that's why you wanted to see me before joining the  
others."

"Which first?" yawned Hiei.

"I'm young and frail. Ease me into it."

Only then did Hiei sit up and look at Kurama. Kurama tried to  
smile Hiei into submission. It didn't work.

"Well, kitsune." The firm, neat mouth twitched. "Can you sit  
this close without jumping me?"

Kurama blinked. He blinked again. Swirls of fire and ice danced  
in his belly. Hiei's little gaijin and her startling  
pronouncement of yesterday. Genkai-shihan had reported that  
one's sixth sense was nearly on par with Kuwabara-kun's.

Could she have picked up on that nerve-racking scenario in the  
trees a week or so earlier? But that was a moment's aberration,  
courtesy of Hiei's blazing ki.

Still---if she picked it up, she must have run straight to Hiei,  
Kurama thought. What do I make of this?

Hiei moved a hairbreadth closer. "Once my head cleared I thought  
of what you said to me in those trees. I'm not Kuwabara. Wasn't  
difficult to figure out."

"You talk too much."

"Of a certainty."

Kurama glanced away. "It's gone now."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. But for a while, you were burning. Everything that  
got near you---I thought you would ignite that tree."

"I ignited a different one." Lacing his hands together, Hiei  
stretched his arms overhead until his shoulders crackled.  
"Later."

"The colors your ki turned. I don't believe I've ever  
experienced anything quite like that before."

"Imagine how it felt from inside. No---you don't want to."

"Probably not. Hiei, what do you know of this girl?"

"Everything."

"You didn't know she was a trained dancer. Nor that she could  
sing. Nor---"

"Everything of importance."

"I thought as much. Hiei---"

"Anyway I'm safe now?" A throaty chuckle took some of the sting  
from Hiei's words.

"Surely. But am I? I believe you threatened my life."

"Only under one condition, and you're not stupid enough to repeat  
it."

Replaying the entire Tree Scenario, Kurama came to a conclusion  
that was as inescapable as it was astounding, and rounded on Hiei  
in amazement. "You were---untouched!"

The blood-color eyes were limpid and unashamed. "Of course  
untouched. What did you take me for?"

With a rueful laugh, Kurama shook his head. How very like Hiei  
to be cynical and jaded in some things, shockingly innocent in  
others. "That explains a lot."

"Maybe." Hiei jerked his head at a blushing girl who stared at  
Kurama from a distance. "That one---eyes only for Kurama."

Kurama mumbled something appropriately noncommittal.

"And you're used to this," said Hiei. "But that one---" Here he  
tipped his head in a different direction and Kurama picked out  
another girl, equally distant, half-hidden behind a maple tree.  
"That one, eyes only for me," he added. "Yes---I felt the  
pressure of stares in Makai. I feel them here."

"Your point, Hiei?"

"I'm untouched, not blind. The weight of it is less malevolent  
here, with no threats of death afterward. Still---"

Now Kurama flat-out gaped. "But. Back in the tree, you acted as  
if you knew nothing."

"And I don't," Hiei assured him. "At least, not that sort of  
locker-room nonsense. But I had noted stirrings. It was part of  
why I needed to get away. As if I could run from it. As if I  
didn't know what would happen when I finally unleashed it. I  
should have fled when you came into the clearing back then."

Kurama shrugged. "Can't be undone."

"Neither can this." Hiei raised his left hand; a gold band  
flashed in the fleeting sun. "I did try warning her."

"Can't imagine why she didn't listen."

"She uses the term 'pheromones.' Says ours made up their own  
minds, ambushed us, end of story."

"Charming," sniped Kurama. A cloud obscured the sun.

"She didn't know me as the rest of you did. Had no expectations.  
I could say or do anything that came to mind. It was like being  
reborn."

"Still. To let someone under your guard like that---"

"Who? You or her?" Hiei skewered Kurama with his stare. He  
jerked his head skyward. "These moods of yours have become like  
passing clouds. One minute she's charming, the next you glare  
daggers at her, then you all but steal her because she likes your  
singing. What have you got against her?"

"Actually---" I liked her quite a bit, thought Kurama; Or would,  
or did, or started to...

Hiei lifted an eyebrow.

"Not against her. You."

To Kurama's surprise, Hiei shrugged it off. "Keh. It can wait.  
The second thing won't take long."

Gooseflesh straked Kurama's neck. If this harrowing conversation  
was what Hiei meant by 'easing Kurama into it,' what further  
horrors awaited? "I suppose you'll tell me whether I want you to  
or not."

Hiei nodded. "Take me shopping," he said.

"I thought you said take me shopping."

Hiei exploded from the bench. "Come on. I don't have all day."

0-0-0-0-0-

His face was a white balloon in the inky dark, floating to and  
fro. The miko huddled in a corner as if that would make her  
invisible.

"Too much." The Serpent was eating up the room with his long  
strides. "You said too much." He stopped, pulled the miko to  
her feet. Their heads were almost on a level.

"Stop touching me!" Her voice rose to a shriek. "Stop it!"

He sighed, holding up his hands in mock-surrender.

She turned her face away, quieter now. "I got the information  
for you, didn't I?"

White Sands Serpent removed his sunglasses, revealing the snake-  
slit eyes. "Genkai's temple. So I was right in looking for her  
there. Just a bit---premature."

The windows blackened. Slowly the Serpent traced a ghost-colored  
forefinger across the miko's forehead. She shivered. When he  
spoke, his voice was scarcely above a whisper. But the blind  
windows trembled in their frames.

"It hurts when you say such things to me. I, who open my heart  
to you, who give you love and shelter."

"He---" The miko put a hand to her throat. "The little demon.  
The one who belongs to my friend. He'll---"

"No one will come for you. Rest assured of that. Do you wish to  
know why?"

The miko let her hair fall over her face. "No."

He let her go. She sank to her knees, clutching a low table for  
support.

"Do you wish to know why all these boys who have used you in the  
past run from you?"

She shook her head.

"You should wish to know. Knowledge is power. And the two  
things are related after all. You see, you are damaged goods."

The miko lifted her head. "But they come to me ..."

"Of course. They come for the same reason that the little fire  
demon goes to the other miko. Males enjoy used merchandise for a  
time. They all sink to that level. And when you're no longer  
convenient, they fling you aside."

"He's still with her." In the dark, her finger traced a name on  
the tabletop.

"Yes. That one has an unusual degree of endurance. But that's  
all it is---his demon endurance. The moment he discovers the  
truth about her, it will sting him. It will sting him with a  
poison he may not even feel at first, but the wound will grow and  
fester. Eventually he will throw her aside."

"He won't let you have her."

"Such defiance saddens me. It must be that you're lonely. I can  
fix that. She'll be company for you. You'd like that, wouldn't  
you? Another girl to talk to. With whom to exchange gossip and  
recipes."

"You can't have her," whispered the miko.

"Aren't you the one who cried out in pain? And I was the one who  
offered you comfort. It was you who came to me, if you recall."

The miko nodded. "I did. But..."

There was the sound of windows rattling.

"I am the only one who wants you for your spirit," the Serpent  
continued. "No one else. You know that, don't you?"

"I know it." The miko laid her head on the table, covering the  
name she had traced there.

0-0-0-0-0-

"I'm thinking of removing the Jagan." Inside the gaudy little  
variety store, Hiei lifted a Hello Kitty plushie, held it at  
arm's length for inspection. "Will she like it?"

She, Kurama thought. Never referred to by name, and possibly not  
just because Hiei had trouble pronouncing it.

"I think she would be horrified."

"I'm guessing you don't mean this pink toy. It was a joke. And  
pink may not be her color, but still---"

"You're paying too much for that."

"Don't care," said Hiei, rushing to the cash register. "No time  
to root around. Come on, one more stop."

Kurama thought he was beyond feeling surprise. "What for?"

"I want to buy something for Kaasan."

0-0-0-0-0-

Hiei hadn't exchanged a word with Kurama since making his  
purchases. They walked back to Kurama's house in a silence that  
once would have seemed companionable.

Kuwabara and Yuusuke had beaten them to it, and were gathered  
outside, still in school uniform. Only Hiei, Kurama reflected,  
was not wearing some form of school garb. Another point of  
difference among them.

Kuwabara aimed friendly punches at Yuusuke, none of which came  
close. Kurama watched the two boys play on his doorstep like  
healthy young animals. They did not feel compelled to monitor  
their every word and action.

He sighed.

"Oi, Kurama! Hiei!" Yuusuke feinted right, landed a quick jab  
to Kuwabara's unguarded shoulder, then dashed down the street to  
meet them. "What took you so long?"

Hiei lifted the shopping bags in answer.

Yuusuke snickered. "Buying crap for the little woman already?"

Grave, Hiei nodded. "And a melon for Kaasan." They reached the  
door.

"Whoah, Shorty!" Kuwabara goggled at the shopping bags. "Where'd  
you learn to be such a major-league suck-up?"

"From the master." Hiei jerked his head toward Kurama.

"Fast learner, aren't we?" said Kurama.

Kuwabara harrumphed. "Tryin' to make the rest of us look bad,  
Shrimpboat?"

Hiei rolled his eyes. "Ring the bell, idiot. Or will I?"

Kurama manufactured a smile. "Or why don't I just use my key."

Kaasan came to them as they were slipping off their shoes in the  
genkan.

"Hiei-kun!" Shiori beamed. "How nice to see you again!"

Yuusuke muttered, "So what are we? Yesterday's rice gruel?"

Kuwabara growled agreement under his breath, while Kurama  
remained silenct. That Kaasan should take to Hiei at once was a  
sore spot.

Hiei said, "I'm intruding." Then with a deep, practiced bow, he  
presented the beautifully-wrapped melon. "From all of us,  
Kaasan."

"Brown-noser," muttered Yuusuke. Kurama stuck an elbow in his  
ribs.

"How thoughtful!" Kaasan cradled the gift bag as if it was a baby  
itself. "I'm sure I don't deserve such a gift. And how is your  
wife, Hiei-kun?"

"Very well, thank you. Keeps apologizing for the way she acted  
when she was here."

"Oh, but she mustn't! She was---" Kaasan darted a glittery look  
at Kurama. "She was suffering the ill effects of being trapped  
in a 'meat locker' down by the docks."

Yuusuke snorted. Kurama gave him the elbow again.

"Please," added Kaasan. "The two of you come for tea some day  
and we'll straighten this out,"

"Thank you," said Hiei. "We will be delighted."

"Kaasan," interrupted Kurama, before the situation could further  
deteriorate. "We'll be in my room."

"Of course. I'll bring tea directly."

As they made their way upstairs, Yuusuke said, "Kurama, your  
mother never struck me as crazy, but if she likes Hiei---"

"Hey, girls like little things," interrupted Kuwabara. "They  
think they're cute."

Hiei snorted. "Don't underestimate Shiori-san. She sees a lot  
more than she lets on. They all do."

Kuwabara turned a puzzled stare at Hiei. "They?"

"Women."

They filed into Kurama's room, Hiei immediately leaning against  
the wall, the shopping bag with the ridiculous toy at his feet.  
Kuwabara flopped on the bed, while Yuusuke flung himself onto the  
floor. Those two, at least, appeared normal.

Kurama addressed Hiei. "You once told me women were my  
weakness."

"When did I say that?"

"When Yatsude's henchman abducted Maya-san. Apparently, they're  
yours, too."

"One of them, anyway," Hiei agreed. "Well, maybe two."

"She's not your mother," said Kurama. "She's mine. You won't  
get another warning." He pulled out his chair and sat. Yuusuke  
and Kuwabara exchanged uneasy glances.

"Guess Hiei's got a thing for older women," Kuwabara said, no  
doubt to smooth things over; it didn't help when Yuusuke high-  
fived him.

"Older?" Kurama lifted an eyebrow.

"Shay-san's three years older 'n' him," said Kuwabara.

Kurama stared at Hiei. "Is she."

"Yeah," added Yuusuke. "We found out when Hiei asked us to help  
fake his ID."

"Which makes Hiei---" Nineteen? A child! No wonder he was  
untouched. That Hiei should share such information with Kuwabara  
and Yuusuke and not him... "I imagine I didn't get the memo for  
that meeting."

"Must have slipped my mind," said Hiei.

"She was showing off night before last." Kurama gave Hiei a  
melting smile. "Your firebird."

"No!" Feigning shock, Yuusuke drummed a pattern on the floor.  
"We all were."

Kuwabara nodded vigorously. "Did you see her?" he crowed. In  
another minute he would be rolling on the floor, waving all four  
paws in the air. "Man, she threw away more ki at the club than  
some weaker youkai could gather in a lifetime! If Genkai can  
harness that---"

"She throws away things she doesn't even know she has,"  
interrupted Hiei. "Apparently she trained in the performing arts  
all during school." He left his spot on the wall to sit facing  
Yuusuke and Kuwabara, his back to Kurama. "Within an hour of  
meeting me, she could imitate me."

"You mean she could act obnoxious?" Yuusuke gave Kuwabara a  
swat; the bigger boy giggled.

"I thought it was cute," said Hiei. "She also told me it was  
because she has---how did she put it? 'A quick ear.' Whether  
that comes from stagecraft or Spellcaster abilities, I don't  
know."

Was Hiei being subtly rude now, Kurama wondered, excluding him  
from the little exchange?

"She told me she'd been raised in convent schools." The ice in  
Kurama's voice should have frozen the room, and then some.  
"You're besotted. Exactly like a human teenager. Although I  
can't detect any spells on you."

Hiei cut his gaze toward Kurama. "Who asked you to try?"

"She is a Spellcaster," Kurama replied.

"That was beneath even you."

Now there was an insult, right out in the open.

"Guys..." began Kuwabara, uneasily.

Time to re-group, try another tactic. "And just where does this  
Spellcaster fit in?" Kurama asked. "Isn't that what our meeting  
is supposedly about?"

"This is a meeting?" Kuwabara joined Yuusuke on the floor.

"Hell, we could make use of a Spellcaster." Yuusuke stretched.  
"Even a third-rate strategist, for that matter." He tugged  
Kuwabara's sleeve. "Meeting's over, let's go."

"Not quite yet," said Kurama, glancing at Hiei. Hiei was  
fascinated by a spot on the opposite wall.

"Nuts." Yuusuke gave a prodigious yawn. "And to think I could be  
dowtown bumming smokes and beating the crap outta some punk."

"I could be home dreaming about Yukina," sighed Kuwabara.

Hiei showed no reaction whatever at the mention of his sister's  
name. Well, my dragon-taming friend, thought Kurama, we're just  
full of surprises today.

"So!" Yuusuke clapped his hands together. "When are we going  
back to America to steal those bells?"

"About that," began Hiei, getting to his feet.

Yuusuke groaned. "Why do I have the feeling I'm not gonna like  
this?"

Hiei shrugged. "I'm not stealing the bells. I'm not stealing  
anything again, in case you wondered."

Kuwabara and Yuusuke exchanged puzzled glances.

"And," Hiei continued, "I'm not going back to Makai."

An icy worm of unease shot through Kurama's veins. Not going  
back? Wasn't that the whole point of Hiei's existence?

Yuusuke raked a hand through his yakuza-styled hair. "What  
happened, Hiei---turn chicken? You stiff some third-rate demon  
lord at a game of rock-paper-scissors?"

"No." Hiei glanced down at Yuusuke. "All I know is that Koenma  
shouted at me to steal the bells while oni ran around his office  
flinging paperwork. But---interestingly enough, I no longer fall  
under Koenma's jurisdiction."

There was the sound of Kuwabara, thinking.

"Okay." Yuusuke jiggled one foot. "That was pretty funny. Now  
how 'bout---"

Kaasan tapped on the door, then brought tea into the room. She  
shot one glance at Kurama, set down the tray, then glided out of  
the room as silently as a youko herself.

"Now," Yuusuke continued, a look of thunder gathering on the dark  
brows, "How about telling us the truth?"

"I just did." Hiei left the wall to inspect the tea-tray.

If Kurama still had his tails, they would be lashing. Hiei was  
hiding something. Something big. Bigger than a newfound  
appreciation for Hello Kitty.

What was it, and could it threaten them? The jaki's words came  
back to Kurama: Hiei will betray you.

"Okay. What did you do to shake loose of Diaper boy?" Yuusuke  
demanded.

"An' what's gonna happen to Team Urameshi," added Kuwabara, "if  
you're not working for---"

"Koenma I will deal with myself when the time comes," said Hiei.  
"As for not stealing---" Hiei glanced at Kuwabara. "Yuusuke,  
why don't you ask Kuwabara the man?"

"Oh, c'mon, Half-pint." Kuwabara shook his head. "I don't steal  
and everyone knows it. But I'm not you."

Hiei shot him a grin. "For which I have Heaven to thank."

"What about---" Kurama had been about to ask, What about the  
baby? How can you fight if you have that to look after? He  
checked himself, remembering Hiei's death threat back in the  
trees. "What about the girl? Where does she fit---"

"Hey, why don'cha give her a break?" Kuwabara muttered.

"Geez, Kuwabara." Yuusuke chuckled. "Why don't you tell us how  
you really feel about her?"

"Look, guys." Kuwabara had that blazing warrior-of-love  
expression. "Hiei drags her away from everything and everyone  
she's ever known and she hasn't complained. Now that's what I  
call loyalty."

"Yes," purred Kurama. "Hiei dragged the girl off a sand-heap in  
the middle of nowhere. How she must miss her surroundings. Not  
to mention the rattlesnakes."

"Actually, I dragged her off this." Reaching into a pocket, Hiei  
took out a sheaf of slick, folded paper, opened it, then handed  
it to Yuusuke.

Yuusuke said, "This is a cutout from a magazine."

"Nothing gets past you, Spirit Detective." Hiei's mouth twitched  
in a smile. "It's an article from an American magazine,  
Architectural Digest. About the Kidd estate."

Yuusuke goggled at the pages, then passed them to Kuwabara.

"Sugeeee," muttered Kuwabara, passing it to Kurama.

The article contained photographs of a house, just slightly  
smaller than some of the more impressive Makai castles Youko had  
once plundered. It had its own lake.

"It's where she learned Enka," Hiei explained. "The family knows  
the owner of a Japanese restaurant."

"I see." Kurama glanced up at Hiei. "So you're the gigolo. And  
here I thought she was the gold-digger."

Hiei held his hand out for the article. "I didn't even know they  
had money until we came back from America."

Kurama smiled. "Then you're content with being kept."

"For the moment." Hiei shrugged off the insult. "There were  
things she needed right away. Doesn't worry me."

"As opposed to being Koenma's lapdog." Kurama placed the article  
in Hiei's hand without touching him.

"Remarkably, yes. And anyway, she's not in line for the money."  
Folding the papers, Hiei slipped them back into his pocket. "Her  
three cousins are. Mary's the youngest. Kathleen's the same age  
as my firebird, and there's an older one, Francie, who's already  
been married and--" Hiei's brow furrowed. "The word's not  
divorced; it's---annulled, I think. Anyway, those are the true  
heirs."

"Heiresses," corrected Kurama.

Hiei bared his teeth. "They're of age, should that interest  
Minamino Shuuichi."

Kurama bit down hard on his reply.

"Oi!" Kuwabara had apparently just clued on to something. "Why  
are we all arguing about Shay-san? No one has a problem with  
Keiko."

"Dolt. Keiko came with the territory. My firebird did not.  
Don't they teach you anything in school?" Hiei paused to roll  
his eyes. "Forget I said that."

A breeze flicked the curtains. Kurama looked from Kuwabara to  
Yuusuke. "Keiko isn't part of the team," he pointed out.

"Aha!" said Hiei.

"Care to elaborate?" Kurama raised an eyebrow.

Hiei nodded. "Position. Structure. Strategy. Once that has  
been settled, no one wants change. We all know it. Yuusuke is  
the lucky one. Kuwabara has the heart. Kurama's got the brains.  
Hiei---" He broke off.

"Hiei is the biggest pain in the ass I've ever met." Yuusuke  
swatted him on the legs, hard, punctuating his words. Hiei  
didn't flinch, even as Kuwabara heartily echoed the sentiment.  
"But he always comes through for us."

"Whoever's after my firebird, Yuusuke, whatever the outcome,"  
Hiei reminded him, "it's not your fight"

"And maybe we wanna make it our fight." Yuusuke shot him a grin.  
"Maybe we don't wanna let you have all the fun."

"You still think it's fun? Hiei countered.

"It was that Holy Water," groaned Yuusuke. "Never shoulda let  
you get your hands on it."

"You couldn't have stopped me. I don't ask you to believe what I  
believe. I don't ask you to change to suit me. But don't ask me  
not to change to suit you." Peeling himself off the wall again,  
Hiei went to the tea tray, poured, then handed the cups around as  
if this were an everyday occurrence. And went back to holding up  
the wall.

"On that trip to steal the bells," Hiei murmured, turning his cup  
round and round, "I did a number of stupid things, any one of  
which should have gotten us killed. But they didn't. I still  
ask myself why."

Kurama left his tea untasted.

"When the plane went down," Hiei continued, "I knew we were  
doomed. But she didn't struggle or complain, even when my heat  
ran out and she started shaking like a jackhammer. Maybe I'm  
interested in the source of that kind of power."

"Oi, Shorty." Kuwabara guzzled his tea. "Don't start acting all  
weird on us."

Yuusuke gave Kuwabara an elbow to the knee. "I'd say Hiei's  
already gone about ten miles past weird."

Hiei lifted an eyebrow. "Yuusuke, you started this. Back at the  
Gate of Betrayal. By showing faith in me."

"Didn't mean to."

"That's what makes you a born leader. You're not even aware of  
it." Hiei placed his cup next to Kurama's. Its steam rose in a  
tendril that twined with the steam from Kurama's cup.

Kurama tore his gaze from the cups. "Is there still a team  
Urameshi?"

Hiei said, "What does Youko Kurama care about that?"

"I don't see fur-covered ears and a tail here, do you?" Kurama  
replied. "Some of us might care about the team. Some of us  
might not have escaped Koenma's jusisdiction."

Silent, Hiei shut his eyes.

Kurama took the opportunity to study him. Head against the wall  
in perfect repose, Hiei looked as beautiful as a sculpture---and  
just as remote.

Kurama knew people mis-read Hiei, assuming there was nothing to  
him but bloodlust. Part of that was simple tactics on Hiei's  
part, and sound ones at that. What possible advantage could  
there be in showing a potential enemy anything but the  
millennium's sole master of the Kokuryuuha?

But even with those who weren't on his death list, Hiei's keen  
intelligence, his dry wit, his strange code of honor, all tended  
to fly under their radar. Hiei's cues were subtle. And the  
girl? For all her seeming American openness---

It was one thing for her to insinuate herself into the group.  
But quite another to make Hiei act like a stranger.

There was now an eerie, un-nerving calm about the dragon master.  
Although Kurama had succeeded in the past with gratifying  
frequency, he thought it would be impossible at this moment to  
bait Hiei.

Still, Kurama wondered, In the park I was able to sneak up on  
him. Suppose I'd been an attacker?

Kurama took a single breath, gave an imperceptible shift of his  
leg muscles, ready to launch himself at Hiei.

"Don't even think it, kitsune." Hiei's slow, careful voice was  
pitched too softly for any of the ningen to hear, but--

"Hey, cut it out, guys," said Kuwabara, eyeing them both  
uneasily.

"I knew that was you," Hiei told Kurama. "In the park."

"Knew what was who?" Yuusuke asked, clearly mystified.

"I mean it," Kuwabara insisted. "This is half-past creepy."

Hiei stirred then, looking not at Kurama but Kuwabara. "Good  
choice of words," he agreed.

"Creepy?" Kuwabara narrowed his eyes.

"Past. My past is behind me. I start with a clean slate."

"Dammit, you and your slate." Jumping to his feet, Yuusuke aimed  
a not-very-serious kick at Hiei's boots.

At last, Hiei gazed down at Kurama. And for an instant, Kurama  
was not the ancient Youko, King of Thieves, but merely fifteen-  
year-old Minamino Shuuichi, and this was his elder.

Flushing, he shook it off.

"Are we done here?" sighed Yuusuke.

"We were doing something here?" Kuwabara got up to join Yuusuke.

Snorting, Hiei flicked to the windowsill. Kurama waited for the  
black blur of his departure. But Hiei stood poised, waiting.

And then hopped back down into the room.

"No. I should leave by the door and say good-bye to Kaasan."

With the feeling that he understood nothing, Kurama rose. "Hiei,  
what on earth's happened to you?"

Hiei paused, but did not look back. "I grew up," he said, and  
was gone.

0-0-0-0-0

White Sands and the slow drip of poison. The acid of a cold-  
blooded heart, visible as a veil of gypsum dust that hung over  
the land. The contrast of fire and ice in a creature of white  
and black and red.

Inside the house, the human named John hurried into the room of  
the long blind windows.

The miko was sprawled on the floor, face-down.

With soundless tread, he went to her. Hovering, hands out, not  
quite touching the girl, he called softly.

She released a sigh and stirred.

"Can you sit up?"

Nodding, she first levered herself to her elbows, and gathered  
those long legs under her until she was kneeling.

He darted a glance behind him and whispered, "Miko, he's just  
using you."

"I'm not a miko. Not really."

"I know." John let his hands drop. Rising, he backed away from  
her. "Be careful. Very careful."

0-0-0-0-0

He had not been her first mate. She herself had all but said it,  
and he still did not know how to respond.

By sheer force of will, Hiei had put that aside. What resulted  
was a glacial serenity. The enemy was far away in America, Hiei  
told himself, flicking from tree to tree, shopping bag in tow.  
The enemy might not come for a long time. Perhaps never.

Even when he hurtled past Genkai's temple before catching himself  
and backtracking, that calm did not shatter.

Landing, he flicked into their room. Good. His firebird was  
sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring into the distance, but  
she turned to him with a faint smile.

"Well? Are they going to let me live?"

"Stupid woman. They are going to let you do all the fighting.  
You will turn demons into stars."

"Yes." Climbing down from the bed, she went to the half-open  
shouji and faced the trees.

Joining her, he thrust out the bag. "Here."

"What is this?" Her eyes, enormous in the tawny light of late  
afternoon, lifted to his.

"It's Hello Kitty. You say this all the time."

She stared at the bag, not taking it.

Maybe he had made a mistake. Maybe in some mysterious way of the  
ningen female, she could tell he paid too much.

"You bought me a present?"

"You don't want it?"

"But, Hiei---you think this is stupid."

"Of course I think it's stupid. Present isn't for me. It's for  
you. Present for me would be big piece of sushi-grade tuna."

She gaped at him.

"Woman, did Genkai short-circuit your brain?"

No response.

Sighing, he lifted the toy from the bag and pushed it into her  
arms. "Take it."

"Oh, Hiei." She wrapped both arms around it.

"You're welcome."

But this was not her. Not the part he loved, not her ferocious  
brand of teasing. Even coming in from a hard day's training with  
Genkai, she should still have had adequate strength to torment  
him about the Hello Kitty toy.

Instead, she moved back to the bed, cradling the toy in her arms,  
staring up at him with those glimmering gumdrop eyes.

He waited for her to speak.

"Ronni's missing," she said.

-30-

(To be continued---to whom can Hiei turn now?)


	19. IB C 19: Hey Nineteen

Please read Disclaimer in Ch. 1.

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 19, Hey Nineteen  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T

Summary: While Kurama struggles against suspicion, Hiei seeks  
help from an unlikely source.

A/N: I have decided that Saturday is the new Monday, at least for this week! ;) Thanks as always to everyone who's been reading, enjoying, and leaving comments!

I appreciate it more than I can say.

Warning for language!

Idiot Beloved Ch 19: Hey Nineteen  
by  
Kenshin

"Hiei will betray you."

Kurama's features remained tranquil. "Oh?"

It was early morning, but getting later by the minute, with  
uncertain weather fluctuating between sun and cloud, warm and  
cool. Kurama didn't need this particular diversion on his way to  
school, but this jaki---the same pale, loathsome creature that  
had tailed him on his way to meet Hiei in the park---was  
persistent.

"You suspect this already," it continued, leading Kurama away  
from Meiou Academy.

Well, thought Kurama, in for a yen...

He followed, glancing about, and when they had reached a little  
tree-lined culvert where it was safe to draw the Rose Whip, he  
let it do some talking. "In what way?" Flick-flick. But the  
jaki leapt for the safety of a tree, just out of reach, yammering  
at him with that shrill, unpleasant voice.

"The fire demon and his gaijin---you truly have no idea what  
they're planning?"

"Who do you work for?" Brushing a casual hand through his hair,  
Kurama clamped a blade of grass between his index and middle  
finger. "Enlighten me."

"Can't the great Youko Kurama figure it out?"

"Has it anything to do with the temple bells?" Kurama

tracked the tiny demon's movements through the branches. A snarl  
of laughter was its only reply.

"Suit yourself." Kurama turned his back, watching from the tail  
of his eye as the creature edged closer. "I'm afraid I haven't  
much time."

He spun. With a feint of the Whip, Kurama launched the leaf-  
blade in an underhand strike.

Thunk. The blade flew true, pinning the jaki to the tree by its  
throat. It gave a single, convulsive twitch, then went limp.

"A pity we couldn't have finished this conversation." Shrinking  
the Rose Whip back into a bud, Kurama slid it into his hair and  
walked to school. There was a maths test next week, and he  
wanted to stay well ahead of Kaitou.

0-0-0-0-0

Some miles away, Hiei crouched on the roof of the Immaculate  
Heart church, gazing down at Father Brian. The priest strolled  
the gardens, its gravel paths and beds of greenery making a  
splendid pattern when seen from above. Even from this distance,  
Hiei could detect the priest's bulky chest and shoulders, the  
build of an ex-boxer, and the hands scarred from work, the gray  
hair cropped short, the hairline receding a bit.

Hiei was not alone; just out of reach, pigeons wheeled and  
gobbled in a rainbow of wings, occasionally casting a suspicious  
eye at him.

Here you are, Hiei thought, looking down upon the human world.  
Literally and figuratively. It's what you do; it's your defining  
characteristic.

And now you are bound to that world.

He wondered if this was irony. He wondered if he might be  
mistaken for a gargoyle.

The priest was flanked by two women and a little girl, talking  
merrily to all of them, occasionally scattering handfuls of a  
substance which could have been Holy Water, or something else.  
When the pigeons rose in a chatter of wings to settle on the  
gravel paths, pecking at what the priest had thrown, Hiei deduced  
it was mere bird seed. So this man of the cloth shared something  
in common with Yukina. Interesting.

"Fire to fire---not good," Yukina had told him, the week before  
the ceremony. But Hiei's firebird was not his double. She also  
carried echoes of all his friends: some of Kurama's brains; some  
of Kuwabara's sixth sense; a lot of Urameshi's lip.

("I know everything about her," Hiei had told the kitsune.)

No. You don't. As Kurama was at pains to point out. You didn't  
know she'd had other mates. What did it mean? That his firebird  
had gone through---what was the word? That one that applied to  
Francie, eldest of the Kidd cousins. Annulment. A decree when a  
marriage was ruled invalid.

How could anyone invalidate a vow of the heart?

The taller woman moved off, taking the little girl with her. The  
other woman continued with the priest a bit, until he stopped and  
sank onto one of the stone benches. Then she turned and hurried  
back into the building.

The priest was alone. Hiei flicked down from the roof to land in  
front of him.

Father Brian sighed, catching the bridge of his nose between  
thumb and forefinger.

Then he focused those dangerous black eyes on Hiei. "Well. If  
it isn't me favorite little hooligan." He patted the bench.  
"Don't you ever knock, kiddo?"

Leaving a comfortable distance between them, Hiei sat. "I don't  
know where else to go."

"Oh, sure. Call on God last. Shoo." The priest waved a  
dismissive hand. "Maybe your punk friends will give you some  
advice you'll like better."

"They're not happy with me just now."

"Pity." Father scattered another handful of seed for the  
pigeons, who bobbled around, greedily pecking.

"Useless things," scoffed Hiei.

"Your friends, or these pigeons?"

"Ch. What good are they?"

"God in His infinite wisdom has created them specifically to shit  
on statues."

"You assume I meant pigeons."

"You assume I did as well."

Hiei gave up, snorting and shaking his head. "You make me laugh,  
Father."

"And you make me despair. What's to do, son? Trouble at home?"

"In a way. Not with her, though. About her."

"Keep talking in riddles. I have all day."

"I appreciate fact that you do not."

"How is the missus then?"

"She's---all right." Hiei reached into his pocket, running a  
finger along the edge of the photo there. "But she has friend.  
Friend I never met. This girl is now missing."

"And how's the little colleen taking it?"

"Quietly."

"Ah, then. Watch out. These Irish lasses... you're fine so  
long's they're yelling and throwing things. It's when they go  
all silent and broody---" Father Brian broke off, shuddering.

"I'll try to remember."

"Does 'this girl' have a family? Have they been notified?"

"Yes, and yes. I met family. They think I'm some kind of  
ninja."

The priest chuckled.

"It's how my wife finds out her friend is missing. Only very few  
people know her telephone number here. You do, and so do team  
members. In America, her aunt and uncle, and also the family of  
that girl. Shay-san checked. Who gave this friend of hers phone  
number? It was the uncle."

Hiei rose. The pigeons exploded into the air.

Speaking softly and carefully now, he continued. "Why is this  
girl missing? That man who built the shrine---if he's wealthy,  
he doesn't need a hostage. And that girl has been gone since  
before I went to America. Unless it has to do with me not  
stealing the bells. But I don't see how. Nothing adds up."

Father Brian got up to join Hiei, flinging down the last of the  
birdseed. "I think this is the longest speech I've ever heard  
you make."

"I think it's the longest speech I've ever heard me make." Hiei  
leaned forward into the greenery to brush his fingers through  
some kind of clipped shrub with tiny, rounded leaves. Kurama  
would know what it was, and how to use it. To Hiei it was just a  
bush.

"We were able to figure out something of that girl's  
whereabouts," Hiei continued. "Four days before I go to America  
and meet Shay-san, that girl leaves the Shrine for a resort in  
Colorado. Nothing unusual; that one runs off all the time. But  
then no one hears from her, not her parents, not her friend.  
Until yesterday, when she phones Genkai's temple to talk to Shay-  
san, and doesn't say where she is. Shay-san checked with the  
resort. That girl was only there a single day, but told no one  
she'd left." Straightening, Hiei turned to look up at the  
priest. "What do you make of this?"

"She doesn't want her parents knowing where she is."

"Why?"

"She could be with someone they don't like."

"But according to Shay-san this is commonplace. I am cursed with  
the ability to remember everything. It's one of the first things  
Shay-san said to me: how this friend is always running off with  
someone the parents don't like, then running somewhere else to  
get over it." He took a breath. "It's..." Hiei narrowed his  
eyes. "How will I put this...? It's her motif."

They were walking now, demon and priest, crunching along the  
gravel path. For the rest of his life, Hiei thought, the crunch  
of gravel underfoot would always put him in mind of the first  
time he saw her---and all his subsequent actions.

"Shay-san has a bad feeling about this friend."

"Does 'this friend' have a name?"

"Yes," Hiei admitted. "I don't pronounce it well."

His fingers closed around the snapshot his firebird had loaned  
him; he slid it from his pocket. It had been taken at the ranch,  
and the sky was dotted with cauliflower clouds. A day much like  
today. His firebird captured in a moment of laughter, sitting  
with that girl on the fence, each with an arm around the other,  
the both of them dressed like ranch hands. That girl was  
laughing, too, but where his firebird was touched by the sun, the  
other was touched by cloud.

Hiei handed Father Brian the photo.

The priest beamed. "Glory be. Willya look at th' pair---thick  
as thieves they are!"

Hiei blinked.

"Ronni Spencer..." The priest flipped the photo, read the  
names, then flipped it over again. He sighed. "I know the type.  
Poor kid. Takes a nice picture, though."

"This picture is from before I meet Shay-san. She takes nice  
picture too." Hiei put his hand out for the photo, but  
hesitated. "She is in America, this girl. I am here. I don't  
know what to do."

0-0-0-0-0

"That one," said John to his lord, nodding at the small blue  
screen on which played flickering shadows of a drama long ended.  
There was another human in the room with him, but he did not  
glance her way. "That little demon is quite a fighter. Are you  
sure you can...?" He ended his speech in a lift of eyebrows.

"As observant as ever," said White Sands Serpent. "I see you've  
made yourself familiar with the Dark Tournament highlights."

"It's part of my job."

At a flick of the Serpent's finger, a cadre of toad-servants came  
forward to shut off the monitor and remove the tape from the  
square black box. One of them handed the tape to its master.  
The Serpent ran a caressing finger along the edge of the tape,  
then tilted his white head up at the human. "You do have a good  
memory, don't you! And because of your good memory, I know you  
will recall the end of the little demon's last tournament fight."

"When he finally controlled the Black Dragon?" John nodded.  
"Even you could not stand up to that."

With hunched shoulders, the toad-servants backed away from their  
master and his human.

"What makes you think he would throw the Dragon with his woman  
nearby?" The Serpent allowed a half-smile to play over his lips  
as he fondled the tape. "Or that he can use it at all, given  
what's happened to him?"

"My lord---"

"However, that's not important." The Serpent turned the tape  
around and around in his hands. "You should have noted his  
opponent's fate."

"Noted how?"

"The fire demon didn't go for the kill. He allowed his opponent  
to live. And that would be a grave error, especially where I am  
concerned."

"But he has allies. Possibly one of them---"

"Had, my friend Had. Already I have spread dissent among them.  
Low-level demons are a dime a dozen. The little demon can't  
defeat me on his own, and now---" The Serpent gave a gentle  
shrug. "Well. No allies, no strength."

"And the girl? The one who's with him?"

The Serpent didn't answer for a moment, tapping the tape against  
white lips.

"She has not come to you as the other one did," added John.

"Perhaps not," mused the Serpent. "But there is a creature among  
the demon's acquaintances who is already maneuvering to cut her  
from the group. I can use that one. Once she is away from  
them---"

"Are you strong enough?"

"Shall I demonstrate my strength to you again?" The Serpent  
curled his fingers around the tape of the Dark Tournament. An ice  
storm in miniature formed around it, whirling and crackling with  
the cold glitter of distant stars. With a low chuckle, he  
tightened his fingers, shattering the tape into frozen bits.

John went white around the nostrils.

"Come, then!" The Serpent waved to his toad-men. "Let bygones  
be bygones---for the moment. It's time to move house."

One by one, the toad-creatures slunk from the room, until there  
was only master and servant and the girl who crouched trembling  
at the master's feet.

0-0-0-0-0

It was only occasionally that Kurama had a difficult time in  
class, and this was one of them. The droning voice of the maths  
teacher slid in one ear and out the other in a sleep-inducing  
legato.

Kaitou Yuu, seated next to Kurama, was apparently riveted; other  
students exhibited varying degrees of attention, from alert to  
comatose.

What concerned Kurama now was not the proofs on the chalkboard  
but the proof of Hiei's intentions.

The jaki was lying of course. It's what jaki did, depending on  
who controlled them, and they were so easily controlled.

Kurama had bound one to his will not long ago. It had revealed  
little that would be of use in solving this current dilemma.

Still.

Hiei claimed---or rather, to be fair, Genkai-shihan had  
stated---that the little gaijin he had dragged back from America  
was a strategist of sorts.

Was she planning something then? And was Hiei in on it?

No, of course not. Why would the girl plan anything? What could  
she possibly want? She had no money, but her family did.

Nothing added up.

Hiei was not a bad strategist. Kurama was an excellent one. Why  
did they need another? Superfluous was the same concept in any  
language.

And the girl couldn't even wield a sword.

He would not think of what the jaki had said. The teacher's  
voice was as tepid water flowing to either side of his body.

Kurama wondered how Hiei had managed to escape Koenma's employ.  
Did it have something to do with that girl?

"Minamino-kun," purred the maths teacher. Kurama looked up.  
Shinagawa-sensei was smiling, indicating the chalkboard. It was  
not a warm smile. "I realize that spring fever takes even the  
best of us by storm. Do you care to solve this, or do you care  
to continue your fascination with whatever is outside the  
window?"

From his seat next to Kurama, Kaitou Yuu coughed gently.

Flushing, Kurama murmured a profuse apology, and worked his way  
up to the board.

He would not focus his attention on the jaki, but on the  
classroom. In just a little while he would solve this elementary  
maths equation, and wipe the not-quite-smirk off Kaitou's face.

0-0-0-0-0

"Moving upsets you, doesn't it John?"

"No." John stood with his legs braced apart, head down, knuckles  
showing white on his fists.

He was the only one of his lord's servants required to stay, the  
only one not crouched in some hidey-hole within the long silent  
house that no longer overlooked the gympsum fields of White  
Sands.

"Don't be afraid." Sitting in the black leather chair, White  
Sands Serpent addressed his servant. "It's not really moving in  
the sense that you poor humans think of it." He bared his teeth  
in a smile. "We weren't exactly in this plane to begin with, and  
the house's ghost impression will remain as it always has. That  
unbearable rumbling? Just ignore it. Ignore it as you ignore  
the shift in the light, blue to red." He chuckled. "But what am  
I saying? Of course you can't ignore it. It rakes your bones  
and gnaws at the strings of your heart. I forget just exactly  
how weak you humans can be."

"Then why does she have remain?" John pointed a finger at the  
miko crouched at the Serpent's feet, both hands jammed over her  
ears, whimpering.

"Have a care, human." The Serpent did not even glance at the  
terrified girl. "She is mine to do with as I wish."

On the cliffs of White Sands, New Mexico, the long, angular house  
stood undisturbed. But its occupants were long gone, come to  
rest in the demon plane.

0-0-0-0-0

Kurama waited just outside the entrance to Sarayashiki Junior  
High, watching the stream of departing students. One of the  
first was Yuusuke, who spotted him and gave a cheerful shout;  
Kuwabara wasn't far behind.

But Kurama didn't know how to begin.

"Oi, Kurama," said Yuusuke. "What are you doing here? You  
thinkin' of transferring?"

Kuwabara chimed, "Naah, that would really mess up Urameshi's test  
scores!" Giggling, he swatted at Yuusuke with his book bag.

The sky still couldn't decide between sun or cloud. Kurama  
walked beneath the flickering light of change until he was a  
little distance from the gates. The others followed.

Kurama stopped, leaning against the wall surrounding the school.  
Students continued to pour forth, oblivious to the drama taking  
place in their midst, but he held himself back. What could he  
say to Kuwabara and Yuusuke that would make sense?

---A jaki said Hiei will betray us.

He could imagine the response:

---Heh. Those things got no honor code.

---Yeah, Kurama. You been dippin' into the sake?

And he knew they would be right. Still.

What really happened in America? It all came down to the girl,  
didn't it? She was the wild card, the new element.

He took a deep breath. "Has anything struck you about Hiei that  
seems ... out of character?"

"Not a thing!" Yuusuke threw back his head in a big, open laugh.  
"Other 'n' his collection of Hello Kitty toys!"

"If that were all---"

Scowling, Kuwabara slung his bag over his shoulder. "Somethin'  
happen to the half-pint?"

"Of course something has happened to him. Or hadn't you  
noticed?"

Kuwabara grunted. "I meant besides---"

"The girl?" Kurama raised an eyebrow. "You can say it,  
Kuwabara."

"Come to think of it," said Yuusuke, "you mentioned something  
about losin' Hiei. Back when we were busy throwing up on some  
flowers outside Genkai's temple."

"I did say that, didn't I?" Kurama fell silent once more,  
holding the jaki's words at bay: Hiei will betray you.

But the very act of suppressing doubt causes suspicions to rise,  
like drowning men fighting for a breath of air.

---'Let that remark be stricken from the record!'

No, Kurama realized: As in a court of law, as with a clever and  
ruthless attorney---one cannot un-hear a remark. It worms its  
way into the consciousness of the listener.

He had heard the jaki's accusation twice now. So. He would  
consider the possibility. Strictly in order to dismiss it.

Hiei. Coming upon him without warning, leaving without warning,  
falling into step beside Kurama, asking nothing, expecting  
nothing. Just there: almost, but not quite, like furniture.

Volatile furniture that could move with blinding speed and  
command the Black Dragon. Should that power turn against them--

No. Hiei was a good ally. He fought well and reliably, and his  
fighting skills were a good mesh with Kurama's. They closed in  
on a foe and parried and surrounded and overwhelmed. With no  
need for speeches.

Kurama calculated that within the past week or so, Hiei had made  
enough speeches to fill volumes.

But none of that was the problem. "The girl," he began again,  
then stopped. Because that didn't make sense either.

"The girl." With narrowed eyes, Kuwabara loomed over him. "You  
keep saying it. What about Shay-san?"

"Nothing." Poor Kuwabara---always wearing his heart on his  
sleeve. The little gaijin had done a thorough job on him.  
Wait---what am I thinking?

Hiei will betray you, the jaki had said.

Behind him, a pair of students provided a moment's distraction:  
one girl squealing, "She's going out with him? No way!" and her  
companion replying, "Way! I heard it from Fuji herself."

Kurama folded his arms, looking squarely at Yuusuke and Kuwabara.  
"What do we know as fact? Hiei volunteered for Koenma's latest  
mission, and failed. He came back not with the temple bells but  
the girl. And he's staying in the human world."

The others exchanged glances, nodding.

"Therefore," he continued, "if Hiei is no longer working for  
Koenma, then who is he working for? Who is the girl working  
for?"

"Us?" Yuusuke was clearly guessing.

"Hiei will no longer steal," Kurama elaborated. "There is  
nothing wrong on the face of it---except that he was a notorious  
thief."

"Hey, so were you," muttered Kuwabara.

"Everyone changes," added Yuusuke.

A murder of crows burst from a nearby tree. Watching their  
flight, Kurama felt his scalp tingle. He moved away from the  
spot. The others followed, flanking him. "Yes," he said,  
struggling for once to find a sense of balance. "But why has  
Hiei changed?"

"Because of the girl, you keep saying." Kuwabara swung his book  
bag over his shoulder. "Is that so bad?"

Yuusuke shrugged. "This time last year I didn't know there was  
such a thing as Spirit World. Now that you brought it up, I  
didn't know there was such an annoying guy as Kurama."

"Indeed you did not. But even back then, you fought. You were a  
fighter looking for an outlet, and you found one as a Spirit  
Detective."

"Holy crap, Kurama, we went through all this yesterday." Yuusuke  
rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you forgot."

"Kurama." Rubbing the back of his head Kuwabara sighed. "If  
you're goin' somewhere with all this, at least send us a smoke  
signal."

Kurama gave a leaf-blade of a smile. How very like Kuwabara to  
play the boisterous fool one moment, then make a sudden turn and  
cut to the heart of the matter.

Turn. That was it. Turn.

"Very well. How's this? You know that church of Hiei's---"

"What have you got against it?" Kuwabara demanded.

"Nothing. For all I care Hiei can move to Vatican City and  
remain on his knees rattling the Rosary until Judgment Day.  
Apart for one thing."

"Which is?"

"Turn the other cheek."

Kuwabara lowered his book bag. Yuusuke moved to stand by the  
taller boy's shoulder.

"You sayin' Hiei's turned pacifist?" Yuusuke elbowed Kuwabara.  
"Hey, Kuwabara, y'know that funny, squishy feeling you got when  
Hiei left for America?"

Kuwabara nodded.

"Still got it?"

"Dunno." Kuwabara was gazing over Kurama's head, as if tracking  
the flight of the crows. "The Shrimpboat---it's like he changed  
his aura or something. Or there's a cloud over him. I can't  
exactly figure it out, but---"

"What if Yuusuke accidentally hit the nail on the head?" Kurama  
countered.

"Wouldn't be the first time," said Kuwabara, "especially the  
accident part."

"What if Hiei leaves off fighting altogether?"

Yuusuke and Kuwabara both snorted with laughter. "Okay," gasped  
Yuusuke. "Get serious, would you?"

Kurama shrugged. "Perhaps one day Yuusuke will have his back to  
the wall and Hiei will walk away quoting Scripture."

"Hey, Hiei always came through for us before," said Yuusuke.  
"Don't see why that should change now."

With a certain degree of sadness, Kurama regarded both of them.  
They were so young! "You yourself just said everything changes."

Yuusuke fell silent, his dark brows drawing together.

Things that cannot be un-said, things that cannot be un-heard.

"And if it has?" pressed Kurama. "In some way none of us can  
foresee? What if he's formed new alliances---and I don't mean  
simply with the girl?"

Kuwabara shook his head. "His aura may have changed but betrayal  
just doesn't seem like Shorty's style."

Kurama glanced back at the tree. The crows had departed, but one  
black feather remained, floating in the air. "You haven't known  
him as long as I have."

"And what's that---" said Kuwabara. "A whole year longer? Why  
don'cha just ask him yourself."

Hiei will betray you.

Shutting his eyes, Kurama battled the heat-lightnings that  
flashed through his system. They beat at him with a steady  
pulse, narrowing his perspective, squeezing out his implacable  
calm, smothering his humor, heightening his color. He was  
skating on the thin edge of his control and he knew it.

"Maybe I won't need to ask Hiei." Lowering his head, Kurama felt  
his hair cascade forward until it hid his face. "Maybe I'll ask  
the girl."

0-0-0-0-0

The last of the birdseed had been gobbled, and the pigeons had  
flown off. Father Brian sighed. "So it's up to you to do  
something about this missing girl, is it? Something the police  
and her parents can't?"

"Maybe." Hiei shrugged. "I've been fighting my entire life."

"My, my." The priest held up one hand, and ticked off fingers.  
"Nineteen. And this is so great an age?"

"Can't do anything about that." Hiei sank to the bench again,  
examining the snapshot. "But maybe I can do something about that  
girl."

A picture taken on a day of sun and cloud. Lightness and dark.  
That girl's hair was long and had waves like the sea. Her eyes  
had a downslanting look, as if made for tears.

He tapped the photo with a forefinger. "I don't know this one.  
But my wife does. This is someone important to her."

The priest sat beside him. "And you say you're no hero."

"I'm not."

"So you chose the confirmation name of the Archangel Michael for  
no reason?"

"That one has a sword. I have a sword."

"Stubborn little pissant." Father Brian moved to drape an arm  
around Hiei's shoulder; without seeming either to dodge or  
rebuff, Hiei was simply---elsewhere.

Two wild girls, clinging together for dear life, Shay-san had  
said. But of the two, which was wilder? Hiei shook it off. "I  
just want her found."

"Look for her with that fancy eyeball of yours."

"I don't think it can see all the way to America."

"Ah, well. It was just an idea, no more."

"I know what the Bible says about turning the other cheek. But  
me, I'm born to the sword. You said so yourself. You said the  
greatest sword of all was calling to me."

"So you did pay attention. You've made this poor doddering old  
man of the cloth very happy."

Hiei snorted. "The problem is, I see no enemy to strike."

"The answer may come sooner than you think, son."

"Meaning?"

The priest glanced up. A long thin cloud insinuated itself  
between sun and earth; a shadow passed over his face. "The  
battle that's coming. I sensed it when you first came to my  
office scared to death I might discover your true nature. A  
fight of essentials, something that requires your presence."

"A fight. At last."

"I don't know when this big thing will hit. Maybe in a month,  
maybe a year. Just make sure your little punk friends are there  
to back you up."

"Of course they will back me up. They're part of my team."

Father Brian shot him a penetrating look, but said nothing. The  
last pigeon circled overhead, possibly hoping for more food; when  
none was forthcoming it flew off. Hiei lifted a hand as if to  
stop its flight.

Fly away, he thought.

"Father."

"What, kiddo?"

"If demons are fallen angels---then what is a fallen demon?"  
Without waiting for an answer, Hiei sprang aloft, following the  
pigeon.

-30-

(To be continued---a dangerous game erupts!)


	20. IB C 20: Blossom of Truth

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 20, Blossom of Truth  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T

Summary: A little "game" turns deadly.

A/N: Skipped a week's update during vacation---updating now with  
two long, somewhat involved, and related chapters.

Thanks as always to everyone who's reading and enjoying this.  
Reviews appreciated.

Idiot Beloved Ch 20: Blossom of Truth  
by  
Kenshin

Watch out for those Irish girls when they go all quiet and  
broody.

That's what Father Brian had said yesterday.

And today, Hiei's firebird had been quiet indeed, slipping from  
the room at first light, no doubt off to meet Genkai for yet  
another day's training.

Hiei had taken advantage of the situation to hone his sword  
skills, a thing he had done all too infrequently of late. For  
hours he trained alone in the field where Shay-san had  
demonstrated her Spellcaster ability. He ran through various  
kata to warm up, then battled invisible enemies.

By late afternoon he was dripping and exhausted. He paused  
gladly enough to watch Genkai stroll from the woods.

But no firebird followed.

Smacking his katana back in its saya, Hiei approached the old  
reiki master. Genkai slid a pack of cigarettes from her pocket  
and shook one loose, placed it between her lips, then raised an  
eyebrow at Hiei.

He answered with a raised eyebrow of his own. "Did you kill her  
this time?"

Genkai struck a match and touched it to the tip of the  
cigarette, drawing deeply and replying on a long exhalation of  
smoke. "Kill who?"

"My firebird."

"Can't kill her if I haven't seen her."

"What do you mean, you haven't seen her?"

"Gave her the day off." Genkai shot him a questioning look.  
"Isn't she with you?"

Hiei swallowed, hard.

Her voice softened. "Don't get hysterical, kid. She's probably  
off shopping."

"Right." Hiei flicked a glance at the sky, trying to quell the  
flutter in his stomach that was almost, but not quite, panic.

0-0-0-0-0

Black. One culture's color of mourning; the color of darkness.  
White; color of light, the color of mourning for another culture.

Red. The color of blood.

The skies outside the long, quiet house were red now, flickering  
with dim lightnings.

Inside the house, White Sands Serpent lounged in the black  
leather chair. Crimson light carved out the contours of his  
white head and black shoulders as two of his servants, one toad-  
man and the lone human, addressed him.

"I fear it's the last we'll see of that jaki," reported the toad-  
man, his voice soft and thick as a well-fed slug.

"The fox-spirit dispatched it," added the human.

"I am not surprised." The Serpent shrugged. "Which means it did  
its job. That, after all, is what counts."

"Shall we send others?" The human, John, slid something from his  
pocket that looked like a mobile phone, clicked it open, waited.

But White Sands Serpent shook his head. "No. It's time to send  
in something..." His voice trailed off; a slow, cold smile  
whitened his already-pale features. "Time to send in something a  
bit larger. A bit more efficient. A bit more---destructive."

Nodding, John punched in a series of buttons, and gave the  
orders.

0-0-0-0-0

So. Another missing girl. This time his wife.

Hiei had phoned Urameshi. She was not there. Nor shopping with  
Keiko. Nor with Father Brian.

Didn't the girl realize she was demon bait? Had she forgotten  
the attacks in America? What fool notion had caused her to go  
out alone, vulnerable?

Hating the feeling of helplessness, Hiei paced the floor of their  
room, glaring at the phone, willing it to ring.

His thoughts were in disarray. He reached for the calm of two  
days previous, failed.

It wasn't you, Shay-san had told him; You weren't---

What did they mean, those thing she had said to him, the night of  
Genkai's trials? How was he supposed to feel about it?

Stupid woman. Let her stay lost.

He snatched the phone, dialed the number of the Kuwabara  
residence, but hung up before the first ring.

Did it mean she'd been married previously? Had she enjoyed  
others as she so obviously enjoyed him?

Stupid phone. Turning away from the useless instrument, Hiei  
sprang away, headed for Kurama's house.

0-0-0-0-0

Minamino residence. Shiori opened the door as Hiei stood with  
his teeth clenched in fear and anger.

"Kaasan," Hiei said, loathing the anxiety that tightened his  
voice. "I'm being impolite."

"Oh, Hi-chan!" Kaasan beamed at him, then actually winked. "How  
nice to see you again! Don't worry---she's right here. Come  
join us, please." And she showed him into the dining room.

Relief and anger waged a short battle within Hiei. Relief that  
his idiot beloved was safe now; anger that she had put him  
through such discomfort.

Anger won.

Kurama was seated across from Shay-san. His eyes held a  
dangerous glitter, and his cheeks flamed as though he had a  
fever.

And what did Shay-san look like, Hiei wondered, stamping hard on  
his anger. Happy? Empty? Guarded?

She sat with hands folded upon the table, eyes hooded. He could  
not tell. Perhaps she was ashamed, or afraid.

Kurama interrupted his thoughts. "Yes, Hiei, please do join the  
party. Your lovely wife was just saying how much she hates our  
tea."

With the feeling that he was entering a battle, Hiei took a seat.

"Untrue," said his firebird. "I merely pointed out that my  
favorite green tea is the roasted rice kind."

Hiei glared at Kurama. The eyes that met his were liquid and  
insolent and amused.

"It's rude for you to speak English in front of Kaasan," Hiei  
said.

"Then how much more rude for you, my friend." Kurama took a sip  
of tea.

Kaasan joined them, pouring tea for Hiei. "It is fine," she  
said, in halting, heavily accented English. "Shay-san helps me  
learn."

Hiei glanced from face to face. It couldn't be that the firebird  
hadn't noticed Kurama's escalating levels of hostility---even  
Koenma's right-hand oni could have sensed that. It was that she  
didn't care. How did she manage that almost glacial degree of  
calm?

"Switch to Japanese anyway," Hiei said, leveling a glacial look  
of his own at Kurama. He would have to accept some tea, but get  
his firebird away as quickly as possible.

And then he would let her have it.

He was not going to look at Kurama until then. Turning his  
attention to Kaasan, Hiei slammed a mental door in Kurama's face.

America was big. Too big, Hiei said, and then Shay-san countered  
that Japan was small. Too small. Kaasan laughed. But despite  
its lack of orange trees, added Shay-san, the view from Genkai's  
temple was far superior to the view from her old one.

Kurama said, in English: "If you wanted an orange tree you  
should have asked me."

"Actually," Shay-san replied, "I can't even decide whether I  
still like oranges or hate them."

"Oh?" Kurama leaned back in his chair, sliding his gaze from  
Shay-san to Hiei. "Can't tell what you like? Don't know which  
side you're on?"

"Kurama," began Hiei, then bit his tongue.

"Kurama?" echoed Kaasan, glancing from face to face, clearly  
puzzled. "What...?"

"My nickname for him," said Hiei, quickly. "The hair."

Kaasan laughed again. "But how clever! And you call this one  
The Firebird! Do you also have a nickname, Hi-chan?"

"I have many. All very bad, all unfit to repeat in front of  
ladies."

"I should know," added Shay-san. "I gave you most of 'em."

She and Kaasan and Hiei shared a laugh. Kurama did not join in.

And then Kaasan rose, and Hiei shot to his feet. She waved him  
down, saying that she had a prior engagement, and they must  
certainly come again. She would clean up later. "Please, enjoy  
yourselves without me, Hi-chan, Shay-san, and ... Kurama," she  
added mischievously.

No one said anything until the front door slammed, indicating  
Shiori's departure.

Then Kurama turned a glittering, dangerous look upon Shay-san.  
"Hiei puts on a good show, does he not?"

She remained silent. Kurama went on. "Hasn't Hiei mentioned?  
He hates ningen. And all Ningenkai. Holds it in utter  
contempt."

Hiei lifted his lip. "Kurama---"

"Does he really?" Shay-san gave the fox-boy a melting smile. "I  
often feel the same way myself."

"Well." Kurama rose, stretching luxuriously. "In that  
case---shall we play a game?"

"Why not?" Shay-san rose, lifting the tea tray. "Just let me  
clean up first."

"No." Hiei took the tea tray from her. "Let me."

"How wonderful!" purred Kurama, casting insolent looks first at  
the firebird, then Hiei. "You have him tamed."

Hiei was about to say: Idiot, it goes faster with boiling water,  
hotter than she can stand.

But why should he explain himself to Kurama now? "I'll be  
finished in a moment."

"I can wait," said Kurama.

The firebird sat there demurely, eyes down, saying nothing.

When Hiei had finished, Kurama said, "Interesting that the little  
woman mentioned the word 'untrue.' Game time, then?"

"Over my dead body," muttered Hiei.

"Let us hope it does not come to that," said Kurama.

"No, it's all right," the girl assured them. "We'll play."

Kurama's look was one of pure triumph. "Up in my room, then."  
With a sweeping gesture he added, "After you."

Damn it, thought Hiei, climbing the stairs. Kurama's "games"  
were not something he wanted his firebird to experience, and now  
there was no chance to warn her. And here I thought she was  
safe.

The only thing he could do was protect her. When they got to  
Kurama's room, Hiei settled her into Kurama's desk chair, then  
crouched on the floor, ready for anything.

"Oh, no." Kurama waggled a finger at him. "No floor sitting for  
you! This particular game calls for eye level, every one."

"You want me in a chair, get it yourself." By his very  
discourtesy, Hiei was sending a Kurama a clear message: I will  
cooperate, but only to a point.

"Certainly." Kurama bowed, then left the room.

This is my chance...!

Darting to Shay's side, Hiei brought his lips to her ear. "Be  
very, very careful. Kurama's---"

And Kurama's footsteps announced him. When the kitsune entered  
the room, Hiei was again glaring at him from the floor.

"Your chair, sir," Kurama mocked.

Hiei grabbed the chair, turned it around, straddled it, the  
posture underlining his previous message: I will resist you.

Laughing, Kurama removed from his hair a small, round seed, and  
placed it onto his palm, showing it to one and all.

"Now. This is a little thing I picked up in Tibet. They grow at  
high altitudes, and bloom into the most beautiful flowers. You  
like flowers, don't you, Shay-san? Of course you do. Girls like  
flowers. Or should I call you Mrs. Hiei?"

When she didn't answer, Kurama concentrated on the seed, coaxing  
it into growth. Ready for anything from a full-on Rose Whip  
attack to a cloud of poison gas, Hiei tensed.

It was indeed only a flower. A flat blossom, with many slim  
petals arrayed around a thick gold center like a daisy. The  
petals were banded with cream and chestnut and had the sheen of  
velvet.

"This is called Blossom of Truth," said Kurama. "It is designed  
to detect lies. In the presence of a lie, the Blossom blackens  
and withers."

The Blossom of Truth? Hiei knew the game now. A cold lump grew  
inside him. This was bad---worse than a full-on attack.

Hiei had always refused when even a playful Kurama invited him to  
participate in an unspecified Game. Truth Blossom was one of the  
deadliest. This was no matter of a simple test, wherein a 'yes'  
or 'no' answer could suffice. Oh, a master like Kurama could  
evade or mislead enough to keep the Blossom alive. It was a  
tightrope act.

And no one could match Hiei for balance.

Yet---a novice, like Shay-san, who didn't even understand what  
was at stake if she lost? "Don't accept," he warned her.

"I already have," she reminded him.

Kurama went to a shelf, reached down a small tubular vase made of  
green glass, placed the flower in it, then placed vase and  
Blossom on the desk where all could see. "Too late." His eyes  
were devoid of laughter and mischief now.

"No!" warned Hiei. "Kurama... don't do this! She doesn't---she  
isn't---"

"Stop. Don't disgrace yourself." Turning from Hiei, Kurama  
smiled at Shay-san. "It's a simple game, really. Questions are  
asked. You must answer. Everyone takes turns."

"Fine." She nodded. "We play such games in America, too."

"Not like this," Hiei growled. She lifted her face to his and  
their eyes met. Then she dipped her head, and was again veiled  
to him.

What mood of hers is this? he wondered. She cannot possibly know  
what Kurama has in mind, or what she agreed to. Anger? No---her  
anger fills the room, and the room is empty. Sadness? No. Fear  
I would smell. This is---

Can this be her battle mood? She doesn't know Kurama's rules,  
doesn't understand the binding nature of the challenge, but she  
doesn't care?

Kurama! You devious rat. I hope she smashes it back in your  
face!

He turned to sneer at the kitsune.

Mounding pillows behind him, Kurama settled back onto his bed,  
stretching out, his posture too a message: I am at my ease here,  
and you are not. "This is the game's structure," he told them.  
"Three rounds, one round for each of us players, and two sets of  
questions within each round, one for each questioner. All  
questions must be answered. You may preface your question with  
an explanation or an introduction, or you may forego this. You  
may answer briefly, or at length. And of course, ladies first."

"I'll begin," said Hiei, quickly. Besides, there was something  
he wanted to know. And this could hurt neither of them.

"Shay-san," he continued. "Back at the ranch, I saw you  
flinch---did you really think I was going to hit you?"

Kurama's eyes sparkled. If he had his tails, they would be  
lashing in glee. "Ah! Hiei, this is too wonderful. When did  
you start beating your wife?"

"Questions are for her now."

The firebird took a deep breath. "For an instant, when you  
struck that wall---I wasn't sure."

All eyes went to The Blossom. It remained as it was.

"Then," she continued, "when you didn't follow through, I knew it  
was okay."

Hiei said, "Did you truly believe I would ever strike a  
defenseless woman? Or a child, or anything weaker than me?"

"Not fair." Kurama raised a warning finger. "One question only.  
And it's my turn." He settled back into the cushions, head  
pillowed in his hands, gazing at them both in a way that was  
almost indecent. "Shay-san. Who are you working for?"

She hesitated.

"Those are the rules." The dangerous snap in Kurama's eyes had  
reached his voice now.

She gave a little sigh. "I guess..." She paused again, the  
winged brows drawing together in thought. "I guess, for the  
moment..." She looked up at the fox. "No one."

The Blossom did not blacken.

"Well," said Kurama, an edge of mock-pleasantry back in his  
voice, "I suppose it's my turn under the microscope. Once again,  
ladies first?"

Her question was instantaneous. "What does Kurama hate most?"

Kurama answered with speed equalling hers. "Change."

"The Blossom remains alive. My question now," said Hiei. "Will  
Kurama fight the inevitable?"

"Who says it's inevitable?"

"That was a good one," said Hiei. "Neither a lie, nor the truth.  
And the Blossom sees fit to pass you."

Kurama toyed with the edge of one pillow. "But of course. Well,  
that set went smoothly enough, did it not? And now we turn to  
Hiei. As before, ladies first."

Please! Hiei begged her silently, Don't think to let me off the  
hook! Going easy on me will be seen as an insult to your  
opponent---with worse consequences than a tough question.

"This." With narrowed eyes, she placed a palm on her flat  
belly. "Not even a doctor would have been able to tell for a  
month or so, and maybe not then. You knew the next day. How did  
you know so early?"

Neatly done. Hiei relaxed just a hair. He could answer well,  
and truthfully, and as a bonus, set himself up for the next  
round. "The little hanyou? Easy. Everything alive has its own  
spirit energy. The moment I touched you I felt it. It hit me  
like a bucket of water to the face. It was alive, and real."  
And I've just laid my trap for you, kitsune. You have no choice  
but to walk into it---and if she doesn't spring it, I will.

"My turn." Kurama ran a tongue over his lips, deliberately,  
meaning for them to see.

Don't tense, Hiei told himself; If you tense, it makes everything  
worse.

Kurama shot him a wicked grin. "Does Hiei dislike fighting?"

Hiei sat there blinking.

Of all the stupid, embarrassing, hurtful, and just plain nasty  
things the fox in his strange mood could have asked---this was  
not a question Hiei was prepared to answer, for the simple reason  
that it was not a question he had ever asked of himself: I fight,  
therefore I am. But like or dislike---?

Urameshi loved fighting for its own sake. As did Kuwabara.

Me?

Kurama fights like it's a dance. How do I fight? The Chupa-  
thing. Did I enjoy the battle for battle's sake or because I was  
protecting her?

When I fight, I want it over quickly. Because I don't like  
fighting, or because I do? How do I answer? How can I answer?

"You don't have all night," Kurama warned.

"I don't know." His voice sounded okay.

They looked at the Blossom. It did not blacken.

"The first round is over, with no casualties." Kurama smoothed  
his hair back and resettled into the pillows. "And now once  
again, we turn to the lady. Hiei?"

Hiei took a breath. Please, idiot woman, he thought, don't take  
this the wrong way. It's the only one I can ask now. "Do you  
feel trapped?"

Her answer came at once. "Sometimes. I traded confinement in  
one temple for another, but I know complaining about it is  
unworthy."

Hiei did not have to look at the Blossom to know it remained  
alive.

Moving with the fluidity of water, Kurama sat up and crossed his  
legs. A not-very-subtle and utterly wanton glint flashed in his  
eyes. He turned to Hiei, letting him see it, deliberate, and  
then he turned the look on her.

Kurama, Hiei thought, if you ask her that, I will have to kill  
you. Do you have so big a death wish?

"Was Hiei your----" Kurama paused; flicked a nearly-invisible  
glance Hiei's way, smiled. Then he continued, as smoothly as if  
nothing had passed between them. "Was Hiei using the Jagan to  
speak to you privately just now?"

She laughed. "No. Can it do that? I've only seen it the one  
time. And Hiei wouldn't let me look at it head-on."

"The Blossom lives," said Kurama. "I believe you're next, Mrs.  
Hiei."

"Very well." She fluffed back her fire-colored hair; gooseflesh  
rose on Hiei's arms. "And now," she said, in that beautiful,  
supple voice, "we turn to you, Shuuichi of the three minds."

That took Kurama by shock, judging from the white around his  
nostrils.

The girl said, slowly: "Do you ever think of telling Kaasan what  
you really are?"

The mouth drew down; Kurama had the look of a sullen child.  
"Yes."

"The Blossom passes him." Hiei paused to consider. The game was  
shaping up now, and Kurama could be forgiven for wondering  
whether Hiei and Shayla were communicating by Jagan. They seemed  
of one mind, even to Hiei. A feeling close to elation claimed  
him.

So far she had shown generosity, even gallantry. Kurama had not,  
unusual for him. And with her level of spiritual sensitivity on  
a par with Kuwabara's she could probably sense Kurama's mood, and  
even, perhaps, sense that she was in danger.

Unfortunately, Hiei was not going to be quite so gallant. "My  
question. In saving his own life, Youko Kurama has stolen the  
soul of Minamino Shuuichi."

Across the room, Hiei could hear the hitch in Kurama's breathing.  
"That was not a question."

"We are permitted to set the question up, are we not?" Hiei made  
his voice drip with a blend of innocence and contempt. "Man of  
the three minds, how much do you regret this soul hijacking?"

Kurama was angry now. The edges of his ki would burn paper. He  
came to his knees, gripping the edge of the bed. His lips curled  
back; he glared a challenge at Hiei. "Not as much as some would  
like."

"The Blossom allows the answer," said Hiei.

"Now Hiei." Kurama's voice had no coloring.

His firebird turned to Hiei, gave him the full force of those  
gray-gumdrop eyes. "Does Hiei regret the question?"

He also bared his teeth, not to her, but to Kurama. "Not as much  
as some would like."

The Blossom stayed as it was.

Kurama's jagged breathing, inaudible to human ears, told Hiei the  
fox had been pushed too far. In his eyes was the need to hurt.

"Master of the Jagan," said Kurama, "I remind you that it was you  
who first used the term 'regret.' Do you regret binding yourself  
to this person in front of me?"

We have him now. "Regret?" Hiei would not even allow Kurama the  
tourniquet of a smile. "No."

The Blossom allows this," said Shay-san.

Outside, a nightthroat called. Inside the room, the tick of the  
clock made a gentle reminder. It was near-dark; by the time they  
emerged, Hiei would have to summon a cab for the long ride home,  
with money he could scarcely afford.

Ask your question, Hiei thought, and get it over with.

"Final round." Kurama's face was chalk white. There was nothing  
in his eyes now, no spark, no glitter. "And we turn to the lady.  
Hiei."

Hiei readied himself with a question that would focus Kurama's  
scorn upon him, not the firebird. "What can I do to help?"

She snickered. "Let me start shaving my underarms again."

Hiei laughed too, but he shook his head.

"Well, well." Kurama licked his lips. "The Blossom sees fit to  
accept that." Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he sat  
up, leaned forward, elbows on knees, keen gaze fixed on the girl.  
"And now, I fear I must raise the stakes a bit."

"Kitsune, don't," Hiei breathed.

Kurama ignored him. "Shayla Kidd, orphan of the Americas, whose  
parents did not even care enough about their only child to  
survive in order to raise her: How often do you weep over their  
loss?"

Hiei put himself between fox and girl. "Kurama!"

The fox flared at him. "Enough!"

"There's nothing in the rules that says I have to like this,"  
snarled Hiei, backing off nonetheless.

"No, it's all right." Shay-san turned to Kurama. The slight  
narrowing of those enormous eyes was the only change in her  
expression.

They waited for her to continue. Outside, a horn blared.

"I left all my tears behind on the pillow when I was about six,  
because not a single one of them brought my mother and father  
back and not a single one of them changed the world for me. So  
if you're expecting to see some waterworks here and now, you'll  
have to do better than that." She lifted her own lip. "Oh, but  
your time just ran out, didn't it?"

Hiei spoke: "The Blossom passes her." There. That took you by  
surprise, you nine-tailed bastard.

As angry as he was, Hiei was also proud of her. She had  
outplayed Kurama at every set, had smashed back volleys when  
needed and shown him far more mercy than he had shown her.

But the game could still go wrong. Kurama was still up in his  
vulpine attack stance. Not even the room breathed then.

And to Hiei's surprise, Kurama flung himself back onto the bed  
and laughed. "Game, set, and match to the ningen female." He  
cuddled against the pillows, with the look of someone who has  
just run a marathon. "I'm willing forfeit if you are."

0-0-0-0-0

A lone human figure walked down the long corridor leading to his  
master's den, the bloody light of the demon plane flickering over  
his form.

John had something resembling a clipboard clasped under one arm;  
his feet made little sound on the thick carpet. Yet his master  
called out all the same as the human reached the half-open door:

"Come in, John."

At the sound of the summons, John paused, adjusted the clipboard,  
then continued slowly through the door.

He stopped. His lord was seated in the black leather chair,  
hands laced together, waiting, unreadable. The long white braid  
hung over one shoulder, heavy as a python.

"Did you send someone?" Unlacing his hands, White Sands Serpent  
held one out for the 'clipboard.'

John gave it to him, then stepped back, as though his master's  
touch was poison. "I sent an army," he said.

Glancing down at the information on the clipboard, White Sands  
Serpent nodded. "That should suffice."

0-0-0-0-0

A chill hung in the night air---and between Hiei and his  
firebird---as they put distance between themselves and the  
Minamino residence. What had she done to put Kurama in that  
deadly, feral mood?

Hiei did not know if the damage done to his friendship with the  
fox could ever be repaired, and at the moment, didn't know  
whether it mattered.

"That went exceedingly well," he said, voice dripping sarcasm.  
"Mind telling me what the Hell you were thinking?"

The soft crunch of their footsteps sounded in the chill air. He  
could see her hesitating, framing, arranging sentences in her  
head, and didn't like it.

"I once said something to Kurama I should not have," she replied  
at last.

"And that would be ... ?"

"It's not important. He got the chance to take me down and  
that's all I needed to give him."

"Do you have any idea of the danger you were in?"

"Of course. If the Blossom had turned black, my life would be  
forfeit."

"And you accepted the challenge? Not only are you stupid, but  
you have a death wish bigger than mine."

The glow from lighted windows made yellow squares in the street.  
People, cozy in their homes, unaware of the battle just waged.  
From two streets over wafted the aroma of frying squid. Hiei  
had not eaten since the morning. He forced his attention away  
from the enticing scent.

The chill deepened. She was getting goosebumps along her arms.  
Peeling off his jacket, Hiei draped it over her shoulders.

She shrugged, almost dislodging his jacket. "It could have gone  
worse."

"Worse how? Your life on the line for nothing! Kurama does not  
threaten human females. How did this occur? Whatever you said  
to him it must have--"

"Drop it."

His anger bubbled up again. "Woman!"

"I'm begging you. Drop it."

"What's got into you?"

"Maybe it's that I'm free, and safe, and Ronni is not."

He was still simmering at her foolishness. "I see."

"You don't. Not yet. Not really."

"Dolt."

"Never mind that. Kurama---everything he asked of you or  
me---all it did was make him look bad. And believe me, he's  
already starting to regret it."

"Idiot woman! If you had turned the Blossom black, I would have  
had to kill him."

"Idiot demon. I just got through telling you. It was Kurama who  
was on the defensive."

They had reached the park by now, and would have to cut through  
it catty-corner for any chance of hailing a cab. Hiei knew the  
park could be dangerous. Tired as he was, he might need to snap  
into action.

The grass muffled their footsteps. They walked in silence, then:

"I'll probably have to bring this up at my next confession," she  
sighed mournfully. "I could have been kinder."

"Ch. Never bare your throat to Kurama. You picked the right way  
to handle him whether you realize it or not."

And she had knocked the kitsune back on his tails, all the while  
maintaining that glacial calm. Where did it come from? What was  
its source? He wanted to know the answer. But right now, there  
was another answer he wanted more. "Where did you go today?"

"What?"

"Must I spell everything out?" He rolled his eyes. "Today,  
earlier. Before you braved the fox's lair."

She shot him one of her wicked glints. "Kurama has some books by  
my uncle---did you see?"

"Your uncle writes? I thought he is entertainment lawyer."

"My uncle's a Franciscan monk."

"Wait. Your uncle has three kids. Monks don't---"

"Not Uncle Paul. My other uncle. Uncle Thomas. My mother's  
brother."

"I'm confused."

"He's your uncle now, too."

"Never mind the family tree. What was so important you had to go  
running off without telling me? I was---concerned."

"What for? It was broad daylight, and I know where your friends  
live."

"Answer the question, or do I need that stupid flower to make you  
talk?"

"Tokyo Tower."

"Tokyo WHAT?" She had told him she was afraid of heights, had  
warned him never to drag her up there. "Why?"

She bit at her lip. "To see if I could."

"And? Could you? Could you go all the way up there to the top  
by yourself?"

She didn't answer. Her gaze was fixed to the ground as if the  
park's greenery fascinated her.

"Don't do this again," he ordered. "Not alone. Make sure I'm  
with you. Or take Kuwabara."

"Not Urameshi?"

"If the moron's not available."

"Not Kurama?"

"After tonight, you even have to ask? And next time tell me!  
Remember those attacks back in America? You're demon bait."

"All right. I'll leave a note. Does that make you happy?"

"No. To make me happy you must tell me---" He broke off.

But he would not ask about her other mates, not here and now. He  
would wait until they were alone. "---What about me you don't  
like."

"Fat chance, Dragon Boy. Ain't no magic flower here."

"Come on. Tell me. I'm asking."

She shook her head.

"Please."

She turned. He could see her considering. "Not something I  
don't like. Maybe something I want."

"What is it?"

Walking backward on the grass, hands clasped behind her, she eyed  
him with a look that was half affection, half annoyance. "You'll  
give it when you give it."

She was subtle, this one. It would be something completely  
obvious to her, something hidden from him.

But the way the breeze fanned her hair toward her face---so  
beautiful. He released his anger. They had won the deadly game.  
They were free. It put him in a playful mood.

"I already give you ring and baby," he intoned. "What else do  
women want?"

Her gaze flattened. He read unhappiness, even horror.

"It was joke! Sometimes, woman, I---"

"Behind you," she breathed.

-30-

(To be continued---is Hiei outnumbered?)


	21. IB C 21: Serpent Power

Please read Disclaimer in Idiot Beloved, Ch. 1.

Title: Idiot Beloved Ch. 21: Serpent Power  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor  
Rating: T

Summary: The hour is late, and enemies are everywhere.

A/N: The corollary to Chapter 20, and another fairly long one.  
I appreciate everyone who's reading and commenting. Arigatou,  
minna-san!

Idiot Beloved Ch 21: Serpent Power  
by  
Kenshin

At the firebird's breathless warning, Hiei whirled. Ahhh,  
crap---not again! One glance at the enemy, and he snapped up his  
katana and raised a shield.

At least it wasn't the white snake-thing! It was---

"Stay close," he told her, "and stay low."

She obeyed.

It was an oni, a big one, wearing nothing but its own pitted gray  
hide. Damn. He could easily handle the oni, but with her here,  
needing his protection---

The oni lumbered over and bammed on the shield. It could bam all  
day; it would take something like an attack of the late Seiryuu's  
caliber to dent it.

If.

If Hiei was at full strength, and not already depleted from a  
day's training and a Game against Kurama.

"Hey, Tiny!" grunted the oni. "Gimme the girl, an' I'll think  
about letting you live."

"How about you move back and let us get out of here?" the  
firebird snapped. "We're late for a meeting with the Prime  
Minister."

The oni took a moment to scratch its head.

"I would love to stand here and cut you to pieces," added Hiei,  
"but it's been a long day."

"Gimme the girl," the oni repeated. You had to admire its  
persistence.

From the tail of Hiei's eye he spotted another oni emerging from  
a nearby stand of trees, this one smaller and orange in color.  
He shifted position slightly, trying to keep both oni in sight.

The shield might hold.

Two oni. He addressed Shay-san: "If one of the oni moves in back  
of me can you keep an eye on it?"

"Yes," she replied. "Ah, nuts, there's a third one. At nine  
o'clock."

Hiei cranked his head around to the side. Coming low from the  
underbrush was a smaller oni, a violet-colored creature sporting  
three horns.

Three oni. If she got on his back, the way she had at the White  
Serpent Shrine, he could drop the shield and make the vertical  
jump into the trees, and leave the demons behind. "Onna," he  
began. "Listen carefully."

"Another attack!" she cried. "Behind you!"

He spun to face the new enemy. Make that enemies, plural. The  
situation suddenly got leagues worse.

Baring their fangs in glee, looking like dinosaurs in miniature,  
fast and lethal---these were the three raptor demons whose lives  
Hiei had so foolishly spared back in the forest surrounding  
Genkai's temple.

Red, gold and green, they sprang into action, hissing like steam  
engines, surrounding Hiei and the girl.

"Looks like we caught up with you again, short stuff," gloated  
the blue raptor. The others bobbed their alligator heads, saliva  
dripping from their razor-sharp fangs.

"I don't know who you are," said Shay-san, " but in another  
minute you'll be laughing out of the other side of your maws."

"Joke's on you, runt," said Gold. "Hand over the girl."

Red Raptor darted forward to land a heavy blow on the shield.  
Then the biggest oni lumbered up, bamming and fell back to let  
the orange one take its place, and then the violet oni joined  
them.

Three oni, three raptors, one Hiei.

It was grim enough. Hiei was fast, and powerful, but with mind  
and body drained by both the long training session and the  
harrowing Game against Kurama, he already could sense the shield  
weakening.

And the other demons knew it.

He cursed himself for allowing those raptors to live, but that  
would not help the situation now.

He still had one chance. One shot for the strong vertical leap,  
then flight through the trees.

But the raptors could follow almost as fast as he could flee.  
And the three of them stood in a row, balanced for flight,  
leering at him, as if reading his thoughts.

"Woman," he said. "Listen and obey."

"Yes." Her voice came to him high and tight with fear.

"No matter what happens, hold onto me as if your life depended on  
it."

"Y-yes. No, wait!" He heard her cry, felt the heavy blow to the  
weakening shield from the two smaller oni at the same time and  
saw, with sinking heart, that the biggest oni had its clawed arms  
out, towering over them both, blocking his vertical escape.

Cut off from the front, from the rear, and now---

Hiei locked eyes with the gold raptor and bared his own fangs in  
challenge.

If this was to be, then so be it! They would have to literally  
tear him to pieces to get to her, and even in his depleted state,  
he would never allow that to---

"They're ganging up," she cried. "That tall one---you can't  
jump---- he's blocking---"

And suddenly the big oni was on the ground, in pieces, and Hiei  
heard Kurama's cool, insolent voice:

"Not any more."

Without bothering to look at Kurama, Hiei dropped the shield.

Charging the orange oni, he took it out before the blow even  
registered on its nerve endings, got the violet oni with his  
return stroke; Kurama's Rose Whip dismembered the blue and green  
raptors, and Hiei flicked to dismember the gold one, and in the  
same movement, put himself between his firebird and Kurama.

Kurama stood regarding him, Rose Whip in hand, faintly mocking  
smile on his lips. "Any more where that came from?"

The girl seemed to be recovering from the terror of the attack.  
"I don't hear anything."

"Human ears wouldn't," said Kurama.

"I don't hear anything either," snapped Hiei.

"We could always just stand here and make targets of ourselves,"  
suggested Kurama.

"There's been enough target practice for one night," said Hiei.

Shay-san put a hand on Hiei's shoulder. "Are you going to leave  
the bodies lying here?"

"What would you suggest?" Hiei turned, lifted an eyebrow.  
"Proper burial with Extreme Unction? I left the Holy Water at  
home."

"Well," she said, the cool insolence of her voice matching  
Kurama's and more, "I was going to suggest you burn them, but if  
you want to go ahead and get some Holy Water and a shovel, the  
Immaculate Heart church is closer than Genkai's place."

"Baka onna." There was no way he could drag the oni pieces  
together and protect her from Kurama at the same time. He  
considered the dilemma.

"Kurama." Hiei grated out the name. "Can you help with the  
oni?"

Kurama gave him a brilliant smile and folded his arms. "If you  
want them burnt, burn them youself."

"Ch." If he kept Shay-san at his side---but no. And if she  
moved far enough from Kurama to sit on a park bench it was  
conceivable some other demon could drop on her from of the trees.

Shay-san strolled to one of the larger pieces of oni, knelt, and  
tugged at it.

"Woman, stop that!" Hiei leapt forward. "What in Hell do you  
think you're doing?"

Her glance was innocence on parade. "Collecting them myself."

"No way am I letting you drag something that big in your---"

"Stand back," said Kurama. "Please." Once they were well clear  
of the area, Kurama employed the Whip with great delicacy and  
precision. Before long oni and raptor parts were piled in a neat  
little stack.

"There," said the kitsune. "Nice and ready for barbecue." Then  
he turned to Shay-san. "I suggest we get downwind. The smell  
will be brief, but unpleasant, and you don't want it in your  
hair."

"Or your clothes," she agreed.

"Then why don't I go hail a cab." Kurama sauntered off into the  
night.

In that instant the meaning of the word 'surreal' burst upon Hiei  
with perfect clarity.

0-0-0-0-0

When Hiei had finished, Kurama was leaning against an idling cab  
at the edge of the park, arms folded, waiting as if nothing out  
of the ordinary had occurred.

Hiei opened the door and handed Shay-san into the cab first, then  
slid in beside her. Kurama went around to the other side.

"Oh, no." Leaning over, Hiei shot out a hand like a traffic cop.  
"I'm not letting you sit next to her."

"Standard procedure, I'm afraid." Kurama shrugged. "You know  
the drill."

Kurama was right; if demons were after the girl, then one could  
easily yank open the door on her side and pull her out before  
they could react.

"All right," Hiei said grudgingly. But he snaked a protective  
arm around her shoulders, putting at least some form of barrier  
between her and Kurama.

The driver waited for instructions.

"Please," Kurama said, in English. "Take us to Genkai's temple."

The driver blinked in confusion. "Sumimasen?"

"Or don't you know the place?" the fox-boy continued, in  
pleasant tones. "It is located quite a way out of town, I'm  
afraid."

"Saa.." The driver scratched his head. "Nani?"

Kurama, still in English, called him a fat-faced traitor.

The driver grinned and bobbed his head. "Chotto...?"

Then Kurama called him a butter-stinker. The driver shrugged  
apologetically.

Hiei interrupted, giving the driver directions to the temple in  
Japanese. Then he turned to Kurama. "Was that what I think it  
was?"

"Yes." Kurama nodded. "We can speak freely in front of the  
driver if we use English." He fixed his gaze upon Hiei. "These  
attacks---could they have to do with the temple bells you didn't  
steal?"

"In what way?"

"As in, someone thinks you've got them and is trying to obtain  
them from you."

Shay-san took a breath. "No attacker's ever mentioned bells."

"True." Hiei pulled her close. "They only wanted to get their  
hands on my idiot woman."

"Why did Koenma-sama want you to steal them anyway?" Kurama  
asked.

"Never said. Just 'steal the bells,' ran off on vacation."

"Never said what was valuable about them?"

Hiei shook his head.

"Now," said Kurama. "You just had an excellent illustration of  
why she's the weak link. She's no fighter, no good with a sword,  
and she---"

"I'm sorry," whispered the girl. "I'm sorry."

"Kurama," Hiei said, sick of games.

Kurama stopped.

"She is sitting right here." Hiei tightened his grip on the girl  
further still. "If you don't address her directly, I will blow  
you out of cab, driver or no driver."

It took some heartbeats for Kurama to speak again. He lowered  
his head, perhaps an inch, laughing softly. "I'm the one who  
ought to apologize," he murmured, then turned to the girl. "Tell  
me, Shay-san, why you did not attempt to Spellbind any of the  
demons?"

Hiei could feel her skin heat up. "I'm afraid I'm not at that  
stage just yet," she replied stiffly.

"That's all right." Kurama sounded almost soothing now. "Shay-  
san. Do you know how to use a gun?"

"I can shoot. Back ho---" She checked herself. "Back in Arizona  
I had a carry permit, but it won't apply here."

"Naturally. Is your aim good?"

"I said I can shoot."

"This will be a moving target."

"At the ranch we shot skeet. I know moving targets."

"Then that's what you'll have to do," said Kurama. "With an oni,  
aim for the eyes."

Shay-san gave an impatient little wriggle against Hiei's side; he  
was probably hurting her. He loosened his grip. "You forget one  
thing," he reminded them. "No gun."

"Atsuko-san can get her one," Kurama assured them.

"From her Yakuza connections?" Hiei was indignant. "No way."

"I'll need something small and light, like a Beretta Cheetah."  
Shay-san was warming to the subject. "Good gun for a lady. Ten-  
round mag, eleven if you keep one in the chamber, and it still  
has some stopping power up close."

"Always talking in code," sighed Hiei.

"And I'll need a pancake holster---if Hiei can wear a coat to  
disguise his katana, I can wear a jacket to hide the gun. And  
practice time, of course."

Kurama nodded. "I imagine the three of us can come up with  
something."

Hiei snorted softly. "So you look now to protect her? Why?"

Kurama turned his head away, but Hiei saw him, reflected in the  
window of the cab, the corners of his mouth turned down, his eyes  
veiled. "If anything happened to her," Kurama whispered, "Kaasan  
would be sad."

"You know," said Shay, drawing out the last word. "Hiei's  
interrogation technique can still use a little refinement."

"Kill first, ask questions later." Kurama smiled. "That's our  
Hiei."

"You did the same thing," she reminded the fox-boy.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence.

0-0-0-0-0

The silence had begun to strain at the edges by the time the cab  
pulled up and stopped in the road leading to Genkai's temple.  
They all three got out, the cab idling for Kurama to get back in  
for the return trip to town.

The night was warming up from its earlier chill, and the soft  
hoot of an owl carried on moist soft air from the distant trees.  
Hiei felt almost light-headed from exhaustion, but the sight of  
the temple, sitting above the road, cheered him.

Kurama did not get back in the cab right away. He followed them  
up the road a bit, then stopped.

Reaching into his hair, he extracted another small round seed,  
coaxing it to grow, and when he opened his hand, there lay a  
second Blossom of Truth.

He offered it to Shay-san. "Here. The vase and water were just  
for show. It will last about two hours, with or without."

"Thank you, Kurama." Then, coming close to him, she balanced on  
the very tips of her toes, placing both hands on his shoulders.  
"And this is for Shuu-ko."

She kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Hiei caught his breath, ready for anything.

But Kurama's eyes flew wide. He put a hand to the spot she had  
kissed.

"Good night," she said, then turned and strolled toward the  
temple. Feeling as if nothing further could surprise him  
tonight, Hiei followed. He heard Kurama get into the cab and  
pull away.

0-0-0-0-0

Back in their room, Shay-san placed the Blossom of Truth on the  
table and fell face-up across the bed. "Do I smell like oni?"

Hiei studied her from a distance. "No."

"That's good. I don't think I have the strength to wash my  
hair."

"Maybe I do give in. Maybe I let Urameshi's mother get you that  
Yakuza gun. You can use it on Kurama."

"I won't need to."

"You say this now. His mood can change instantly."

"Minamino Shuuichi likes me. I like him. Kurama likes me, but  
not what I've become. Only Youko would see me dead and  
dismembered."

"How can you know that? You've never met Youko."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Okay, okay."

"He's ashamed now because it was weakness to attack me. I'm  
nothing but an ordinary ningen female."

Hiei had to laugh at that one. "Liar."

"It was beneath him and he knows it. But after what I said to  
him he couldn't stop himself."

"He did---in the end."

In a flash, she was off the bed, Blossom of Truth in hand, face  
to face with him. "And now," she said, "Courtesy of Kurama...  
tell me what you want right this moment."

"Baka," he purred, pulling her close. "I give you three guesses.  
One for each eye."

0-0-0-0-0

Red light, black room, White Serpent.

This trinity of color, representing descendence, reality, and  
ascendence.

The hour was late and the house hollowed out with silence. His  
toad-servants had all departed for the night; only the human  
remained with him, the human silhouetted against the long bank of  
red-tinted windows, the Serpent deep in his black leather chair.

Of the miko huddling at the feet of the master, no one took any  
notice.

"All of them?" The Serpent ran a white tongue over white lips.  
"All, dispatched?"

"Every one." John flipped the 'clipboard' around, showing its  
face to the Serpent.

He gave an impatient wave. "Even the raptors? They should have  
been fast enough to---"

"Even the raptors." John's face was carefully, deliberately  
blank. "It seems the little demon had some outside help from a  
source you had counted on."

For a long time, the Serpent did not move. "Very well."  
Drawing a deep breath, he rose. "I shall have to make an attempt  
myself."

0-0-0-0-0

Judging by the scents and the sounds, it was somewhen between  
midnight and dawn. Cold in the room, and getting colder.

Hiei had lain in a half-waking state for some time now, feeling  
his firebird toss and turn. She was a good sleeper and this was  
unusual.

He glanced at the floor. There was the Blossom of Truth,  
shriveled and black, lying where she had dropped it.

She rolled to her back. At the juncture of her neck and shoulder  
he saw a tiny nick where he had gotten a little too enthusiastic  
with his fangs. He soothed it with his tongue. She rolled away  
from him. He stuck an elbow into her. "Can't sleep? Want your  
gun now? So eager to shoot me?"

She rolled to her other side and he caught the scent of her  
sweat. Never unpleasant to him, sharp with the tang of her own  
salts and pheromones, but---

New. Different. Something subtle about her sweat.

She was sweating heavily. The room was cold, she wore not a  
stitch, and yet she was sweating heavily.

"Hey." Another dig with his elbow. She didn't respond. He  
pulled her around to face him.

Her eyes were open and unseeing. Her teeth gleamed in the dim  
light and she took one breath for his two.

He thought of the time she'd been poisoned.

For a moment, he considered the Blossom of Truth. He had not  
touched it. But she had.

However, using it to poison her---not even Youko would stoop to  
that.

The cold bit at him now. The temperature was dropping fast.

"Onna!" He shook her for real. A thread of sound wisped from  
her mouth. Her gaze rolled right and left and did not rest on  
him.

Hiei drew a shuddering breath, and, at the very edge of his  
perceptions, sensed a faint tendril of some power that was in the  
room with them.

A shock of fear seized him. Pulling on some clothes, he bolted  
from the room.

0-0-0-0-0

Genkai-shihan stood next to the bed examining the unconscious  
girl, grumbling to herself. Hiei's firebird was still in that  
strange, half-waking state, her breath threading toward the  
ceiling. He had wrapped her in his mantle; now, bare-chested,  
his breath crystallizing in the air, even the half-Kourime felt  
the cold.

"And you say they were just oni?" Genkai lifted her eyes to his.  
"Low-level oni?"

"Yes." Hiei nodded. "Along with three raptors. We took care of  
them."

"We?"

"K-kurama was---" When he spoke again, he had regained control  
of his voice. "Kurama showed up. Is she---"

"Relax." Genkai softened her voice. "There's no poison at work  
here."

"Then what's doing this to her?"

"Sit her up and give me her hand."

He complied.

"You can't see them?" Genkai said.

"Please, no games, Baasan. I have had enough of games."

"Even with the Jagan bound, you should be able to see these power  
tendrils. Living with her has made you stupid." Genkai pointed  
upward.

Hiei tracked the direction, past the sweating girl, up near the  
ceiling where all the warm air in the room had been pushed by the  
cold. And saw at last what he had only felt before. "But these  
weren't here," he protested. "I could sense a faint backwash of  
power, nothing visible. Now, though..."

He trailed off, staring. Filaments of ultraviolet light, flowing  
from the ceiling, thinning to near-invisibility where they  
attached to his firebird's brow.

Growing! Shooting through the room to---or  
from---who-knew-where. His hands twitched, itching to slash and  
sever the connection; he thought of the katana leaning against  
the bed, reached out for it.

"Don't you go breaking that connection," warned Genkai. "Not  
until we can trace it."

Hiei forced his hands to relax. His firebird had pointed out  
something earlier and she was right. None of their encounters  
had yet yielded a live suspect for questioning. If they could  
find one now at the other end of the tendril it could prove  
invaluable.

He knew this. It was fact. Still he wanted to leap forward and  
sever the power tendrils.

"Girl!" commanded Genkai. "What do you see?"

And to Hiei's astonishment she answered. Her voice was slurred,  
just as when she'd been poisoned, but she was able to form words.

"White eyes. White hair. House leaning over a cliff." She  
hitched a breath. "Burning white fire. His hands are white.  
His thoughts. Old thoughts. Old power. White for poison.  
White for mourning. White for laughter."

A few crystals of snow formed in the moist air of the ceiling,  
then drifted to the floor. Hiei's scalp bristled. He understood  
this now, knew what it was now: the power that had found him in  
America, the power that had attacked them both at the Arizona  
shrine. "Break it! Break it at once!" He lunged forward,  
clawing.

"Don't!" Genkai gave him a little shove backward.

"She's in danger," he hissed.

And the bands of ultraviolet writhed like vines under a ravening  
fire. Hiei shied away from them, torn between the need to snatch  
the girl to safety and his own fear of what lay at the other end.

The girl's brows drew down, as if in pain. She gave a little  
grunt, breath steaming in the frigid air. Sweat soaked her skin.  
Trembling, she arched her back, half-rising from the bed, baring  
her teeth, eyes tight shut now, clearly in a struggle.

"Baasan..." Hiei began. Genkai held out a hand to silence him.

"Hear that?" Genkai said.

"Hear what?"

The power tendrils vibrated, giving the faint ring of crystal.

And exploded, showering them with fine, powdery snow that burned  
where it touched bare skin.

"Moron," said Genkai, brushing the burning snow from the  
bedclothes. "Now we can't trace it."

"B-but---" Barely able to breathe, Hiei shook his head. "I  
didn't break the tendrils."

"Then who---" Genkai raised an eyebrow. "She did? She broke  
them?" Her words emerged as fading smoke; even as she said them  
the room was warming up. "Well. She's stronger than whatever it  
was, anyway." Grunting, Genkai blew into her own hands to warm  
them; Hiei grabbed both of the tough little fists and gave her  
some of his heat.

The firebird's eyes opened, focused on him, clear as gumdrops.  
"I broke what?" she murmured.

"You're awake!" It was all he could do not to fling himself at  
her. He covered his weakness by warming her hands in turn.

"You broke the tendrils." Genkai nodded. "You were connected by  
them to a mind, seeing something it either wanted you to see, or  
didn't."

"Damn." Shay-san sat up, pulling the mantle around her, mopping  
sweat from her brow. "Double damn."

"Was it like your dream?" Hiei prodded.

Genkai looked from one to the other. "This happened before? And  
you boneheads didn't see fit to tell me?"

"Not like this." Shay-san shook her head. "It wasn't like this  
before. It was just an impression. I thought at the time it was  
a bad dream and nothing else."

"So did I," said Hiei.

Settling back into the pillows, the girl mused, "I wonder if I  
could get whatever that was to come back."

"No," snapped Hiei. "I forbid it."

She shrugged, but seemed not to be listening. She should listen,  
Hiei thought. He had battled that white thing in America and  
barely managed to get them both away from it. Then had made the  
stupid assumption that it had not followed them back to Japan.

He remembered the White Serpent Shrine, bared his teeth. "Stupid  
is right, Genkai. The power I felt back then at the Shrine. The  
white snake that attacked us there. The power that came here  
tonight. I think they are one and the same."

"I see." Genkai folded her arms, glaring up at him. "And the  
fact that it attacked here---I don't find that at all comforting.  
Do you?"

Hiei looked at the floor.

"Enough. Now you," she said, to Hiei, "get up and act like a  
husband."

"Baasan!" he protested, embarrassed.

"Dolt." Genkai shot him an acid look, then walked away, shaking  
her head. "Brew her some tea. What did you think I meant?"

0-0-0-0-0

"You're not as strong as you thought," said John, his head  
tilting down to address his lord. There was a rising tone in his  
voice that rang throughout the room of red and white and black.  
"Not only did the other miko not come running, but she slammed  
the door in your face."

"Shut up," hissed the Serpent.

In the black room illuminated by crimson light from the demon  
plane, breathing hard, White Sands Serpent clung to the arms of  
the black leather chair as if to let go was to drown.

At his feet, the miko drew herself into a shivering ball.

"Perhaps you've overextended yourself," John continued. "Perhaps  
you've been weakened. And now weak enough to be defeated by a  
sleeping girl."

"I'll show you weak!" White Sands Serpent shot out a hand,  
grabbed the huddled miko by the throat, yanked her into his lap.

A little cat-mew was her only defense.

"Leave her alone!" John lunged forward, knocking the Serpent's  
hand away from the girl. She tumbled onto the floor and lay in a  
still small heap.

Without a sound, without shifting position, White Sands Serpent  
unbraided his hair and sent a single snake shooting out. It  
wrapped itself around John, coil upon coil, until there was  
nothing of the human to be seen.

But his agonized cry rattled the windows.

0-0-0-0-0

In Genkai's kitchen, Hiei grabbed two mugs, heated some water,  
then waited impatiently for the beverage to brew.

He had never before thought that anything could move too fast for  
him, but he had the impression that he was standing still, and  
the events of the world were spinning under his feet at a speed  
he could not even detect.

The cold white power he had felt at the Shrine, and tonight. It  
flat-out scared him.

What happened, he wondered, to 'I fight, therefore I am?'

He was returning with the mugs on a tray when Genkai appeared in  
the hall. She drew on her cigarette, sparking the end to life.

"As if Yuusuke wasn't bad enough," she said. "Just what I've  
always wanted: another couple of idiot kids running around the  
place, getting into mischief."

Hiei sighed. "We could move out any time you---"

"She could become very, very powerful." The old reiki master's  
eyes narrowed behind a long plume of smoke. "Your 'firebird.'  
Strong almost beyond belief. But she won't."

Hiei considered what Shay-san had said in the cab: She couldn't  
use her powers yet. "How strong?"

"How strong? I'm old, Shorty. Over the decades I've seen  
countless Spellcasters. I've trained some, even battled a few.  
This one did what she did that morning after one half-assed  
lesson. One. If she took the training, she could, with a single  
word, stop a man's heart." She paused for another drag. "Let  
that sink in for a bit, kid."

The tray felt suddenly heavy. "But you said she won't. Because  
she's too soft?"

Genkai laughed. "No, that one wants to become stronger. And has  
far less compunctions against killing than you, if it comes to  
that."

She was going to make him ask. "Why not, then?"

"Moron. She believes you'll always jump between her and the  
speeding train."

Hiei gulped down his stock answer. Could he do it? Could he  
protect her against something that shook him to the bone?

Genkai snorted. "Too much fire, both of you. Fire and air.  
Nothing good can come of it. You'll burn each other out."

Hiei rolled his eyes. "Everyone says that."

Abruptly, Genkai changed the subject. "There are things I have  
to find out. I'm leaving for a day or two. Don't wreck the  
place while I'm gone."

He waited for Genkai to elaborate.

But all she said was, "Tea's getting cold."

"It's coffee." Hiei shot the old woman a tired grin. "My  
Firebird hates tea."

-30-

(To be continued---the coming storm!)


	22. IB C 22: Distant Thunder

Please read Disclaimer in Ch. 1.

Title: Idiot Beloved, C. 22, Distant Thunder  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure and more  
Rating: T  
Summary: The enemy reveals himself---to the weakest link on the  
team.

A/N: Yokatta---made it! Monday is once again the new Monday.  
;)---so thank you for all your reviews. They help me to know who is reading and enjoying this, and I really appreciate it. Seven chapters and the coda remain. We are in the homestretch!

Idiot Beloved Ch 22: Distant Thunder  
by  
Kenshin

Hiei woke to the rumble of distant thunder. For a split-second  
of confusion, he was not in Genkai's temple but back in Arizona,  
staring at his firebird, watching her sway uncertainly as she  
tried, half-naked, to approach him.

Which made him think of other things, which made him bite down on  
his lip.

But Shay-san was still hard asleep. Neither of them had gotten  
much rest last night, and while Hiei could push himself without  
sleep, food, or water for days, she was just a ningen female, and  
in her condition---

She was all right, and so was the hanyou. Genkai had said as  
much: no damage from Shay-san's brief contact with that cold  
white power.

Remarkable to think that a couple of weeks ago, Hiei had not  
known of her existence. And now. And now...

The thunder made him restless and the coffee she'd drunk last  
night must have put her on edge. When he shifted, she opened an  
eye and slanted a look at him. "Ohayou."

"Ohayou. Didn't mean to wake you." He touched a forefinger to  
where the little hanyou lay hidden and secure. "Ohayou."

Thunder sounded again. Sighing, she listened for a second.  
"Rain. Just what I needed."

"Not rain yet---only thunder." With a glimmer of anticipation,  
he told her that Genkai had left the night before.

"Really?" She rolled over and stretched. "We're alone here?  
For only the second time?"

He nodded, eager.

"And me too tired to take advantage."

He must have made a little sound of disappointment.

"Life is cruel," she murmured. "Besides, it's time for you to  
see Kurama."

"Keh. I've had enough of Kurama."

"Look, the Game wasn't that bad. It would have been worse if---"  
She broke off, frowning. "Let me put it this way: you have  
secrets from me, I have secrets from you. If Kurama could have  
somehow delved into our minds then maybe---"

"He can't. What secrets?"

A tiny, tiny shrug. "That's not important right now. Bring me  
back some chocolate."

"Really?" He brightened. "You have cravings already?"

Was there the slightest hesitation in her answer? "I always  
crave chocolate. Hadn't you noticed?"

"Of course." He hid his disappointment well.

He counted his heartbeats, timing the thunder. There had been  
thunder the first time his body overcame his mind's stubborness,  
and had paid tribute to her...

There had been no rain that night. Only rain in his heart.

Poor girl, he wanted to say, I should have told you: I mate for  
life---and beyond. Well. I did, in a way. But only after the  
fact.

Of course, she probably would have replied: Stupid youkai. So do  
Catholics.

But he said none of that. Only, "I know this wasn't fair to  
you."

"What wasn't? Introducing me to that devious youko buddy of  
yours?"

"You know what I mean. Poor unsuspecting girl. Instant demon  
baby."

She shrugged. "Happens to lots of girls on their wedding  
night---only not the demon part."

His fingers traced a pattern on the bedding. His mouth felt dry.  
"Onna..."

She sat up, arms wrapped around her knees. "Hiei?"

"At that time," he began. "If you knew. Everything that was  
going to happen. Every consequence. Would you have stopped?"

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Baka."

"So I'm an idiot. What else is new?"

Thunder growled again. "You're not really an---"

He interrupted. "You're not sorry?"

She lifted her head and gave him the full force of those  
shimmering gumdrop eyes. "I would have crawled over broken glass  
to get to you."

Her answer struck him dumb. It deserved a response; all he could  
do was stare.

"Now, as for Kurama---"

He reached for her. "Kurama can do without me."

"Know something?" She straightened, avoiding him neatly, without  
making it into a rebuff. "Yuusuke may be the team leader, but  
right now you're the pack leader. Even if only for reasons  
strictly related to age, you've got seniority over those kids.  
And pack leaders have to cuff the Omega wolf now and then. But  
they always make it up afterward."

"Crazy thing is, for once I know what you're talking about."

"Kurama's not exactly the Omega wolf. Fox-boy's not a wolf at  
all. But he is your friend and ally."

"I'm not leaving you here alone."

"The last thing Kurama wants is me in his face again. And this  
temple is well-warded. You keep telling me so."

"That---thing got in here last night."

"Do you really think it can try again? So soon?"

"Go with me anyway. You can visit Shiori. You can stay with  
Kuwabara. I can drop you on top of Tokyo Tower."

"I'm tired, Hiei. It was a long night. Come on. School's out.  
Tell your little playmate you're sorry. Hurry back. I'll hide  
under the covers."

He gave her rump an affectionate slap. "You really are an  
idiot."

0-0-0-0-0

The sky outside Kurama's window was heavy and plum-colored with  
the promise of rain. It was such a dark morning that he was  
forced to switch on his desk lamp in order to read the heavy tome  
in front of him.

A flint-smelling breeze riffled the curtains. He had always left  
the window open in case Hiei should take it into his head to show  
up. Now, Kurama rose to slide the window shut.

After last night's debacle, it was possible that such a meeting  
might never come again.

Come on, Hiei, he thought. Get out of my head. I have my own  
life to live. Damned jaki. Damned suspicions.

"Musuko! I'm leaving!"

Kaasan's voice barely registered in his mind. Taken in by a  
jaki. Shameful.

"Musuko?" Shiori's footsteps sounded as she climbed the stairs.

Rousing himself, Kurama hefted the book and met her half-way.  
"Sorry, Kaasan---didn't hear you at first. I've been studying  
rather hard."

"And what's unusual about that?" Shiori gave him one of her  
motherly smiles; luckily enough she did not glance at the book's  
title. "Next time your two lovely friends come for tea, I  
promise not to run out."

Two lovely friends.

Kurama bid his mother good-bye, teeth clenched, fingernails  
digging into the palm of his free hand.

0-0-0-0-0

Shayla Kidd had plans.

And it was best, for an action like she had planned, to sneak up  
on it, holding herself at an angle.

Eventually she would face it head-on, but now---

She was not 'demon bait.' Not in the sense that Hiei was talking  
about. And though none of her attackers had ever breathed a word  
about temple bells, Shayla knew this was the key.

It all came back to the same place, in some way she could not yet  
piece together: She and Ronni in the desert as make-believe  
miko.

Then, Ronni's disappearance. The attack at the Arizona shrine.  
This latest attack in the park.

The walls breathed at her.

For a moment she wanted nothing more than to lie on the pillow  
which carried his scent: blackberries in burnt sugar, pine  
needles in a night breeze. It was a powerful temptation to hold  
the pillow close to her and fall back to sleep; Hiei would not be  
gone long, and then he would return, and they could have time  
together. And as Kurama had reminded her, she was not a fighter;  
she was in fact the weak link.

But Ronni was still missing. And Shayla Kidd knew who had her.

She rested for a moment on her back, one hand on her belly. She  
would be, what---some two weeks along, at most? Thus far, she  
had no sense of the life there. Sometimes she would forget  
herself, and then feel ashamed.

Hiei had asked if she was sorry. She could answer no. But was  
he?

She could tell, by the reactions of his friends, that this was  
not the Hiei they knew. That some of his behavior since he had  
brought her home shocked them. It ate at her.

Yuusuke: "Hiei's laughing? Must be the end of the friggin'  
world." Kurama and his subtle glances. Kuwabara: "If you ask  
me, it's a big improvement."

I know who I have to face, she thought. I just don't want to.

The thing won't come again so soon, she'd assured Hiei. But it  
would. She was counting on it.

Flinging back the covers, she got up and dressed in the thin  
morning light that smelled of sulfur and brimstone.

0-0-0-0-0

She said she would have crawled over broken glass. It's just the  
kind of thing she would say. But down in her heart, in that  
secret room she shares with no one---

Flicking from tree to tree, Hiei rushed toward the Minamino  
residence, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.  
A cursory mending of the rift between them, and then the answer  
to a question that had nagged at him ever since the game of  
Truth.

And then he could return to Genkai's temple. His thoughts kept  
returning to her---whether that creature would make another  
attempt on her. Was it adhering to a cycle of sorts? Could it  
only make an attempt on a weekly basis? Did that constitute a  
weakness on its part?

Hiei could not fathom how something that chilled him to the bone  
would have any weakness whatever.

You took her away from everything she knew, and saddled her with  
a demon brat without so much as a murmur of consent.

That conversation had been interrupted. Hiei almost changed his  
mind and doubled back to the temple. There were things she might  
admit when no one else was around, and frankly, there were things  
he could ask her when no other ears might overhear.

But.

He could just see those winged eyebrows zoom up, just hear her  
tell him, "Stop being a mother hen."

Ashamed of himself, he pressed on.

0-0-0-0-0

Red, black, white: the trinity of color. Red for the Dionysian,  
black for the Baroque. White for the Apollonian.

But there is more.

Some have made a study of color symbolism: Red for passion,  
strength, energy, fire, masculinity. Black for power,  
sophistication, mystery, sex. White for purity, snow, air, fire,  
cowardice.

Red are the skies of the demon plane where the long silent house  
thrusts over a cliff.

The house has traded sifting gypsum seas and the white creatures  
of the desert for dim scarlet lightnings and the scrabbling of  
jaki.

Inside the house, a tableau of three colors: The scarlet hakama  
of the miko, her kimono of white.

The white face of the human male lying on the black floor. The  
scarlet that splatters his body as the miko crawls painfully to  
reach him, inch by inch, moaning his name.

But their lord and master is not there to listen. He is on his  
way to the human world.

0-0-0-0-0

Shayla Kidd had marched yesterday to Tokyo Tower, on fire with  
determination, fists clenched, teeth set: I will conquer my fear  
of heights. I will go up there and walk out onto the observation  
deck and gaze down at the city.

As if that would save Ronni.

In the end she had not even been able to walk through the Tower  
doors.

She slid into a loose pair of gray sweats, the same ones she had  
worn when trying to rescue Ginger from the rampaging bulls,  
spared a fleeting thought for Hiei, the ledge-walker.

Maybe ending up at Kurama's, opening herself to his challenge,  
was her way of saving face.

She wondered what the Blossom of Truth would say about that.

Time to look at other unwelcome truths, thought Shayla. That  
terrifying white snake-thing that had risen from the ground, back  
at the shrine in Arizona; it would have gotten her if not for  
Hiei. Same with El Chupacabra, same with the bulls, same with  
the oni and raptor demons of last night.

All these creatures were after her. Not him, not the powerful  
demon who could defend himself with muscle and sword and flame.

She owed him her life at least three times over. Four, counting  
the insane and perilous dash across the Pacific. The demon with  
garnet eyes and blue-black hair. The one she needed with such  
intensity that each time she glanced his way her knees went weak.

Mirakuru romansu: a love she had longed for most of her short  
life.

But it was not to be. There was a mind looking for her, and it  
had touched hers, and knew where she was. It knew she was in  
this temple. Knew she was alone.

Having dressed and made the bed, she hurriedly swept the floor of  
the room she had shared with Hiei, then pattered to the engawa.

Looking out, she could see the clipped mugho pines, the swath of  
green lawn where Genkai had tried to get her to believe she was a  
Spellcaster, and beyond that the forest surrounding the temple.

It was true enough, what she'd told Kurama last night. This  
temple had a better view than the one she'd left in Arizona.

Now for a better view of something else. She shut her eyes,  
concentrated.

Where are you? she called in her mind. Show yourself! Isn't  
this about your speed---cornering helpless girls?

Her only reply was the rumble of distant thunder.

Turning away from the open screen, Shayla made her way to the  
largest room of the temple. Come out, you snake!

She wasn't particularly afraid of snakes, though Arizona had them  
in plenty. The venomous ones you left strictly alone. Rattlers  
gave fair warning, and unless you were a fool and picked one up  
or your luck ran out and you stepped on one, avoiding a bite was  
easy.

Snakes were cold-blooded, slow, of an ancient phylum, depending  
on an outside source of warmth in order to live. She was warm-  
blooded and quick.

Come on, you belly-crawler! she challenged. Show yourself!

Nothing. She stared at the temple doors, willing them to open.

Still nothing---only the rumble of thunder.

Sighing, she turned away, weak with relief. Perhaps Hiei would  
return soon. Perhaps she could enlist his help. She had been  
too weak to face the bulls alone, and she was too weak to face  
the thing that had Ronni.

And then a creak of sound.

Hair rose on the back of her neck. Shayla Kidd turned to see a  
slice of thin gray light parting the temple doors.

Hiei? she wondered. But Hiei would not bother to come in by the  
front way. Genkai?

A near-soundless tread on the engawa, and her mouth went dry.  
She ran a tongue over papery lips, spoke in a shaking voice. "H-  
hello?"

A man strolled through the half-opened doors, paused, and smiled  
at her.

"I know you," she whispered. The temperature plummeted, and she  
froze like a deer in headlights.

0-0-0-0-0

For only the second or third time since Hiei had known Kurama, he  
knocked on the front door.

Kurama answered at once, a heavy book tucked beneath one arm. He  
barely blinked. "Hiei. Come in. I hardly expected to see you  
again so soon."

Kurama seemed calm, almost flatlined, as if last night's games  
had purged him of all emotion.

They seated themselves in the living room, Kurama placing the  
book on the coffee table between them. The kitsune gave Hiei no  
wicked glints and no smart remarks, just an open stare devoid of  
anything but mild curiosity.

He's going to make me start, is he? "Well, fox? Can life go on  
as before?" When Kurama didn't answer, Hiei continued. "Must  
have come as a shock to you. I show up with no bells, but the  
girl in tow, then I tell you I don't steal any more. Where's the  
fun in that?"

Kurama gave a ghost of a smile. "Not much, I'll admit."

"That book." Hiei nodded at the heavy volume. It was bound in  
mahogany leather, its pages edged with genuine gold leaf. "Looks  
expensive."

"It cost a fortune," sighed Kurama.

"Her uncle wrote it."

"Uncle?" Kurama's voice scaled up just a touch.

"Her uncle the brother. I wonder if he's got a chapter on fire  
demons."

"He doesn't. Her uncle is the Franciscan Thomas McNeil? Author  
of A Modern Demonary?" Kurama's eyes rounded.

"Does this astound you so? He hasn't met me. Wonder what he  
would say. I don't even know what he looks like, except she says  
he's got gray hair and glasses."

"She comes from an interesting family, that one. Estates and  
demon-hunters."

"She does indeed." Hiei glanced at Kurama. There. As neat an  
opening as he could have wished. "I've been thinking."

Kurama gave him another faint smile. "You've been known to do  
that on occasion."

"Since last night, I've been thinking." Hiei leaned forward,  
lacing his hands together. "But it was nothing I wanted to bring  
up in the taxi."

"I don't suppose I can claim we're in a taxi now?"

"The Game," Hiei pressed. "You lobbed a couple of nasty ones her  
way."

"I know." Kurama at least had the grace to look nonplused,  
turning his head to the side, a faint flush rising on his cheeks.  
"It was the heat of the moment."

"It was more than that." Hiei raised his head to pin Kurama with  
his stare. "You were about to ask her something, and you stopped  
yourself. But you looked at me. You wanted me to know that you  
knew this particular secret. So. How did you know---certain  
things? You're no mind-reader. What method did you employ?"

"How rude of me to forget." Kurama got up, went to the kitchen.  
"Will I make you some tea?"

"I don't imagine your answer is in the tea leaves, kitsune."

Kurama stopped, his back toward Hiei. Hiei waited.

"You'd better come upstairs." Kurama turned and headed for the  
staircase, picking up the book as he went.

Curious, Hiei followed.

"I'm afraid I have a confession to make," said Kurama, gesturing  
for Hiei to enter the room.

"Try Father Brian. He'll make you say ten Hail Marys and kneel  
on gravel for an hour."

"No, this confession is for you alone." Kurama placed the open  
McNeil book on his desk and stood facing Hiei. The leaf-green  
eyes were narrowed just the slightest bit. Calculating? In  
pain? Mocking? Hiei couldn't tell.

Hiei leaned against the wall. "I'm all ears."

"After ... the tree incident---"

"Yes, we needn't dwell on that---"

"A jaki was following me. I captured it. Then suborned it."

"I don't think I'm going to like hearing this."

"That's a certainty."

Hiei bared his fangs ever so slightly. "You had it spy on us."

What happened next was as surprising as it was inevitable.

Maybe it was the atmosphere, thick with the storm. Maybe it was  
something else altogether. At any rate---

"Is Kaasan home?" Hiei asked.

Kurama shook his head.

"Good." Kurama's remarks all week. His freeze-and-thaw. The  
Blossom Game.

With a coiling of muscle, quicker than any eye could see, Hiei  
lashed out a fist and connected with Kurama's jaw, slamming the  
fox-boy against the opposite wall.

Kurama gave a grunt of shock; the impact forced breath from his  
lungs; he slid to the floor. Staring up at Hiei, he wiped his  
mouth with the back of a hand. "What was that for?"

"From the instant I brought her home," Hiei snarled, "you've been  
on her case. I should let you have it last night, full-force."

Springing to his feet, Kurama launched a counterattack; Hiei took  
a blow to the forearm but backhanded Kurama into the wall again.

The strange sight of Kurama, sprawled awkwardly for an instant,  
then scrabbling to right himself. He flung Hiei a glare of pure  
green ice. "And I should have done worse the minute you---" He  
clicked his jaws shut.

Hiei responded with his finest sneer. "The minute I what?"

"Stay away from my mother!"

"Ah! Now I have your measure. You can't stand sharing. Not me,  
not Kaasan. Know why I asked Yuusuke and the idiot to help me  
with my ID and not you?"

Kurama gathered his legs under him, but did not rise again. "I  
don't suppose I can stop you telling me."

"Because Yuusuke doesn't care."

"I see. So you choose your friends on the basis of their  
uncaring nature."

"Fool. Yuusuke takes things as they are! As for Kuwabara, his  
heart is pure. Stupid fox! She was willing to be your friend!"

"Was."

"Still is. Get this through your thick skull: she's mine. And  
it stays that way. No matter what vile Youko tricks you attempt.  
Know this also: if you ever stage another session like you did  
yesterday, you'll fight me for real. And I won't pull my  
punches."

Kurama dabbed at his mouth again.

"Cut the crap." Stepping forward, Hiei grabbed Kurama's collar,  
yanked him to his feet. "You're not even bleeding."

They stood face to face, silent, counting breaths. Both  
understood this was nothing more than the two of them clearing  
the air. Had they truly meant one another harm, the floor would  
have been littered with body parts.

Kurama sighed, made an elaborate show of dusting off his shirt.  
Hiei snorted.

Mood broken. Hiei found his legs were shaking, and he flopped  
into the nearest chair. "Damn it. And here she sent me to---"

"Kill me?" Kurama arched an eyebrow.

"Make things right between us. And believe me, I didn't want to  
come."

"Here." Kurama sank to the bed, reaching down between desk and  
bed to bring out a small bell jar. He placed it on the desk in  
front of Hiei.

In it floated a jaki, its eyes clouded by the preservative fluid.  
Hiei suppressed a shudder.

Kurama rested his head in one hand. "I really did think she was  
manipulating you. Or so I told myself."

"You told yourself?"

"I had help from an outside source." He jerked his head toward  
the bell jar. "Another one of those. But that's not important  
now. Hiei---the drugs I gave you to bring to America. They  
might have made the girl behave in---some way she would not  
ordinarily behave."

"What are you saying?"

"That I might be responsible for..."

"You don't get it, do you? I was happy about that! Because it  
meant she would stay with me!"

It was the first time Hiei had admitted it, even to himself.

Kurama did nothing but blink. Then coughed, jerked his head in  
the direction of the bottled jaki. "Someone sent this creature  
to spy on me. I returned the favor, but I lobbed it back at you,  
and not the source. It wouldn't, or couldn't, tell me who sent  
it."

Hiei lifted the obligatory lip. "I really should kill you for  
this."

"Later. Shay-san might want the pleasure herself."

"She might indeed."

"And where is she? Waiting outside with her gun? It's so rare  
to see you alone these days."

"Back at the temple."

Kurama relaxed visibly. "At least she's with Genkai."

Hiei shook his head. "Genkai told me last night she was leaving  
for a couple of days to---"

Kurama shot off the bed. "You left her at the temple? Alone?"

"The temple is well-guarded. You know that."

"There's something I've should have told you before. Quickly!"  
Kurama grabbed the McNeil text, angling it so Hiei could see its  
pages. "Have you heard of White Sands Serpent?"

"That was the name of the shrine," Hiei replied. "The one in  
Arizona. Where I saw her for the first time." He frowned,  
glancing at the text. "White Sands Serpent?"

"Kuwabara kept saying he had a 'funny feeling' about  
your---mission." Standing over Hiei, Kurama tapped the book.  
"When you showed up with the girl, I thought that was what he  
meant. But it wasn't. Read."

Hiei was a fast reader. He scanned the page, stopped at the  
illustration, and then found it difficult to breathe.

"That---thing---attacked us at the shrine," he whispered. "And  
she dreamed about it. Last night, at the temple, something found  
her with its mind. I think it must be---"

"Last night?" There was genuine alarm in Kurama's voice now.  
"Damn! It knows---"

"Where to find us," Hiei finished.

Kurama gulped audibly. "I might have encountered this creature  
myself at Genkai's temple."

Hiei whipped his head up to stare at Kurama. "When?"

"You were---away. In America. A day or so after you left---"

"And you said nothing?"

"It appeared and disappeared before I could so much as summon the  
Rose Whip. I wasn't sure."

Hiei slammed the book shut. "She all but pushed me out the door  
this morning! Why?"

Kurama gave him a slow, sad smile. "Protecting you, I expect."

"Protecting me? Stupid woman!"

"It appears I've misjudged her on more than one front." Kurama  
was up and out the door, calling over his shoulder. "I'll gather  
the team. But in light of what we know, you'd better go on  
ahead."

0-0-0-0-0

You failed, Hiei told himself. Failed at protecting her. The  
White Serpent beat you at every turn.

He was rocketing toward the temple, heedless of thunder and  
lightning, only half-aware that he could be struck and knocked  
from the sky. A fine spray of rain slicked his garments, but he  
didn't care.

He thought for a moment that he could feel her, sense her  
calling out in fear, just as he had back at the White Serpent  
Shrine in Arizona, when the bull attacked her.

Am I too late? Stupid, stupid---of all the---

Hiei flung open the Jagan in the direction of Genkai's temple.  
Yokatta! She was alive, at least.

Branches cracked and fell under him as he neared the temple. The  
brief flash his Eye had afforded him showed only a very narrow  
view, but there she was, seated with her legs tucked beneath her,  
her posture straight. No immediate danger? Perhaps not. But  
something un-natural about her breathing caused him to double his  
speed.

0-0-0-0-0

You hesitated when you should have acted, thought Kurama, then  
acted when you should have held back.

They were already nearing the temple, hammering through the  
woods, but to Kurama it seemed that everyone moved in slow  
motion.

All of them---he, Kuwabara, Yuusuke---were by now a bit the worse  
for wear, covered in scratches and bruises from thick greenery  
that was unlucky enough to be in their way.

"How fast can we get there?" panted Yuusuke, crashing through the  
underbrush.

"Not as fast as Hiei," answered Kurama, himself flicking from  
branch to branch, hoping the others could keep up. "But fast  
enough to provide backup."

Yuusuke and Kuwabara had been sniping at one another like 9-year-  
olds, Kurama reflected, but he knew it was only their way of  
letting off tension.

They had grabbed a ride part of the way, on the back of a fast-  
moving delivery truck, and there Kurama had filled them in on  
what little he knew of White Sands Serpent.

Clinging to the back of the truck, the wind making a banner of  
his hair, Kurama had pondered why the enemy had sent the jaki to  
him.

And knew Hiei was correct: Kuwabara's pure heart would reject  
its lies outright. Yuusuke would cheerfully vaporize it and move  
on.

Only he---only Youko---would have heard it out and let its poison  
work on him. Kurama sealed that knowledge away.

"You oughta write a memo to yourself to tell us when there's a  
dangerous monster that only you can see," gasped Yuusuke, yanking  
Kurama's thoughts back to the present.

"Next time," Kurama got out, using an oak tree as a springboard.

"I don't like this much!" Kuwabara's taller, heavier form was  
flattening bushes right and left as he ran.

"Another of your funny feelings, or you outta shape for running?"  
Yuusuke ducked under a thick branch.

"Speak for yourself, wuss-boy!" Kuwabara surged ahead of  
Yuusuke. "She's alone, and you heard what Genkai said. Shay-san  
may be a Spellcaster, but she's had, what, a week of training?"

"Shut up and run!" Yuusuke caught up with Kuwabara; the two of  
them neck-and-neck like thoroughbreds in a photo finish.

If you'd been thinking clearly, Kurama chided himself, you'd have  
called a cab at the same time you called the others.

It was a measure of how rattled he was. Shouldn't have let that  
jaki work me, he thought: Should have trusted Hiei, should have  
trusted the girl, should have told everyone I might have seen  
White Sands Serpent at the temple---

All the shoulds in the world would not help them now. "Divide  
and conquer," he said, surprised at the sound of his own  
bitterness. "That's what the enemy did."

"Not yet!" Kuwabara panted. "We ain't beat yet!"

"Yeah!" Yuusuke had that well-known battle blaze in his eyes.  
"Let's see how that snake stands up to my rei gun!"

But Kurama, zipping through the trees at a speed that would rival  
Hiei's, entertained the grim thought that they might not arrive  
in time.

0-0-0-0-0

Hiei landed in front of the temple, hackles rising. The doors,  
heavy and glittering with frost, stood open, wide enough to admit  
a man.

Frost in the middle of a soft wet rain. When Hiei ran a  
tentative finger along the door, it burnt him; he jerked his hand  
back.

I'm not ready for this. I have to be ready for this. She's  
alive. Hang onto that.

He inched through the frozen doors, until he could see what was  
inside.

In the far corner of the room, almost hidden by mists, his  
firebird was sitting on her knees, her little fists clenched in  
her lap, head down.

The room was colder than the door---as cold as the meat locker  
Kurama had conjured as his cover story for their condition when  
they had arrived from their flight across the sea.

She was all right. He almost felt his thoughts touch hers.

Her breathing was shallow and forced, but that was only because  
she was scared and struggling to hide it. A ragged pattern of  
fog sifted through the air about her, and for an instant,  
obscured the rest of the room.

And then the fog cleared.

Not three feet away sat a man on a low hassock, his hands  
steepled in repose. Both his skin and his long braid was white,  
in stark contrast to his trim black suit and red tie. His eyes  
were shielded by black sunglasses. Around him was an aura colder  
than the stars.

Two creatures of black, white and red. Black for power, mystery,  
sex. White for snow, air, fire, cowardice. Red for passion,  
strength, masculinity. All those elements were present in both  
creatures; all those elements combined to spell out the key to  
victory.

For a long moment Hiei and the Serpent took one another's  
measure. Then the Serpent broke the silence.

"Ah, little demon!" He smiled up at Hiei. His voice was low,  
cultured, sibilant. "I've been waiting for you."

A lump of ice formed in Hiei's gut.

He glanced at the firebird. Never mind your backup, he thought,  
just get her! Get her away from him! You did it before. In  
America. Flick in, grab her, flick out.

Go!

"Oh, no you don't," said the Serpent. Almost faster than Hiei  
could track, he jerked the sunglasses from his face, exposing  
eyes that were as white as his hair and skin, cut by the vertical  
black slit of snakelike pupils.

The Serpent's gaze met Hiei's.

Hiei froze in his tracks. He had seen birds do this when  
confronted with the certain death of a stalking snake; now he  
himself was its victim.

Then the sensation of falling jerked his head around; the room  
spun, gravity claiming him, he was flailing for purchase,  
spinning out of control, on his back, no way to right himself,  
falling, once again flung from the edge of the glacial world.

And with a shock, Hiei realized he was standing upright, the  
floor solid under his feet. He could not move. He could barely  
breathe.

Slowly, the enemy rose. His white eyes flickered from Hiei to  
the girl. "And now the fun begins," he hissed.

-30-

(To be continued---A fight for life!)


	23. IB C 23: Fire at the Core of Ice

Please read Disclaimer in Idiot Beloved, Ch. 1.

Title: Idiot Beloved Ch. 23: Fire at the Core of Ice  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor  
Rating: T  
Summary: Hiei makes an unpleasant discovery about his own  
limits.

A/N: Aaaand we're back, after a fruitful layoff, with the first battle scene against... Well. You'll see. Warning for some language. Please review! I appreciate all your comments.

Ch. 23: Heartbreaking secrets revealed!

Idiot Beloved Ch 23: Fire At The Core Of Ice  
by  
Kenshin

White Sands Serpent, Kurama told himself, was not a uniquely  
Japanese demon; no, this was an ancient creature more suited to  
the West, one that liked to prey upon women; the demonologist  
McNeil's knowledge of that one was vastly superior to Kurama's  
own. Hence his initial hesitation in making a positive ID.

But it was an excuse, and Kurama knew it.

And if he didn't, here were Yuusuke and Kuwabara, reminding him  
as they raced through the forest. "Geez, Kurama!" Kuwabara  
flattened a small tree in his flight. "Why didn't you tell us  
about this snake guy before? Then maybe we coulda launched some  
sort of pre-emptive somethin' or other!"

"I wasn't sure." Kurama surged ahead; they were near enough to  
the temple to see it in the distance.

Kuwabara swatted a branch out of his way. "You sure now?"

"I suggest you save your strength." Flicking overhead, Kurama  
gained a few yards. "You'll need it. And perhaps if you had  
been a bit more specific with your own 'squishy feelings--'"

"Can it." Yuusuke didn't so much as break stride. "This isn't  
getting us closer to the fight."

True. Kurama concentrated on the sense of urgency in having let  
down a friend---no, two friends.

In choosing the wrong side of the battle.

"Of all times for Genkai to leave town!" Kuwabara crashed ahead  
of Kurama by two lengths.

"Ah, who cares if the old hag bailed out on some stupid shopping  
trip!" Yuusuke, pounding alongside Kurama, flung him that well-  
known feral grin. "At last---I get to hit something!"

0-0-0-0-0

The Serpent's gaze held Hiei captive.

That one stood somewhere between Kuwabara and Kurama in height,  
which meant he could still look down upon Hiei with room to  
spare. Wearing a crisp black suit and red tie, The Serpent bent  
his regard on the fire demon, and in the room wreathed with  
sifting fog, Hiei remained frozen in place.

Only a wrenching effort allowed him to cut his stare from the  
slitted eyes of The Serpent and rest a moment on his firebird.

Shay-san, huddled in the far corner, managed to flick a return  
glance Hiei's way, a glance that assured him nothing had been  
done to her.

Yet.

And now. Now the first welcome sounds of Team Urameshi's arrival  
reached Hiei's ears. Backup was on the way.

The Serpent undoubtedly heard it too. Sliding his sunglasses  
back on, he stood at parade rest.

Footsteps thundered on the porch. The temple doors burst open.  
Hiei sensed the knife-edges of angry ki, and sucked in a grateful  
breath.

He was un-frozen. The fight could begin. Flinging off his  
mantle, he gripped the hilt of his katana.

Kurama was the first to surge up shoulder to shoulder with Hiei,  
battle-ready, turning with a lift of one eyebrow as Kuwabara and  
Urameshi spread out to flank them.

"Easy," Hiei warned, eyes on the Serpent. "Easy. Nothing's  
happened so far. There may be a way out of this."

And his teammates in turn regarded the enemy.

"So that's the one Kurama calls White Sands Serpent?" snorted  
Urameshi. "Ooo, he's all dolled up. It's so cute when older  
guys think they're relevant."

"No." Kuwabara's voice was a quiet rumble. "This is the one I  
was sensing all along. Now that I'm standing in front of him, I  
know it for sure."

Beside Hiei, Kurama nodded, his eyes emerald slits. "I concur."

"I know him, too." Hiei's voice came out a clenched whisper. "I  
know him."

The Serpent gave Hiei a caressing glance that brought gooseflesh  
to his arms. "And I know you, little one."

Hiei answered with a grunt.

"So much for introductions." The Serpent chuckled. "I see you've  
all arrived. Splendid! We were having a pleasant visit, the  
imitation miko and myself. Of course there's also the diminutive  
fire demon, but he doesn't say much." White Sands Serpent gave a  
polite half-shrug. "That's to be expected. He is, after all,  
afraid, and fear freezes the tongue."

"I do hope we're not interrupting anything of importance," purred  
Kurama.

The firebird spoke, or tried to. "He---" She cleared her  
throat. "He just got here. I didn't even have time to make  
tea."

White Sands Serpent spoke as though he were the host. "Let me be  
the first to say that it's a pleasure to gather this charming  
group together in the same room. I can't thank you enough for  
the opportunity."

"You're welcome." Urameshi pointed a finger in his Rei-Gun  
stance. "Now let me show you how we say thanks around here."

The Serpent ignored Urameshi's threat. "Last night, Kurama  
conducted a little game with the foreign girl and the fire demon.  
But, alas! The game ended too soon. Their deepest secrets were  
never revealed."

Hiei leveled a bloody glare at the Serpent. Not more of these  
stupid games!

"Yes," the Serpent continued, heaving a theatrical sigh. "Sad  
but true. No important secrets laid bare. Not yours, little  
demon, and not the fox's, and most assuredly not the girl's."

"You were listening to us?" Shay-san's head came up, her eyebrows  
winging in surprise. "That's how the oni and raptors knew where  
to attack!"

White Sands Serpent gave a mocking bow. "Not exactly. The  
demons you encountered had been after you for some time. So  
difficult to get good help these days, isn't it?" Then, smiling  
at Hiei, The Serpent raised one white hand, whispering: "Wind of  
Freezing Crystal."

Instantly, a keening wind bit through the room, aimed straight at  
Hiei. Ice bit at him. No one else so much as blinked; no one  
else's hair was blown back by frost moving at the speed of light.  
No one else so much as noticed.

Shivering, Hiei drew his katana, coaxing his ki to form a round  
blue shield. He turned his face and sword into the knife-edged  
wind that only he could feel.

It held him trapped.

But he still had his voice. "Leave the two of them out of this,"  
Hiei warned.

"Oh, but that would be rude of me, since everyone is here. I  
couldn't possibly leave out fox-boy and miko-girl."

"Your opponent is me," Hiei whispered.

"I'm afraid not." The Serpent's voice spoke of infinite sadness.  
"Not this time, and not with so many others present."

"Their secrets are of no moment." Hiei managed a halfhearted  
sneer. "I--I'll give you mine."

"Hiei, don't!" Kurama and his firebird cried out simultaneously.

"The fox-boy's secret is obvious," continued the Serpent.

Hiei could feel Kurama's face heat up. You will not reveal that,  
vowed Hiei, leveling his sword at the white creature. If it was  
anyone's fault it was mine, with my blazing, poisonous ki.

"Your woman said as much, didn't she?" The Serpent tilted his  
head. "A woman always knows. They are quite adept at such  
things---especially this one."

"Your spies have been working overtime." Kurama's voice shook a  
bit. "You should raise their pay scale."

What was Kurama talking about? Hiei glanced uneasily from Kurama  
to the firebird; her head was down again and he could not see her  
eyes.

"You're beginning to bore me, Uncle." Urameshi's Rei Gun flared,  
gathering energy. "It's go time!"

Kuwabara cried out, "Rei-ken!" His Spirit Sword fizzed to full  
bloom. Kurama plucked a rose from his hair, conjuring his Whip.

"Ah. I see you want to play." Slowly, the Serpent's long white  
hair unbraided itself, rising to fan about his sleek form. "Care  
to see what my game looks like?"

"Geez!" Urameshi almost dropped his guard. "Is that all you can  
do? Change hairstyles?"

Hiei glanced around at his teammates. Did none of them feel this  
ancient wind, this cold horror of a dry, slow mind that liked to  
toy with its victims?

Perhaps Kuwabara, who stood still and resolute as granite, eyes  
slitted against the golden blaze of his spirit sword.

But this creature had been in the Garden when the world was new,  
had whispered its poison to the first Woman.

Hiei would not let it toy with his. Nor would he let it  
embarrass the fox. The pressure in his chest, as though he was  
already wrapped in the coils of a constricting snake, made it  
hard to breathe, but he would not let it have her.

"I see these two have no idea what I'm talking about." The  
Serpent indicated Kuwabara and Urameshi. "Shall I let them in on  
it, little demon?"

"No," gasped Hiei. "My secret. I'll give it to you. Just leave  
the others alone."

"Hiei---" A warning note grated in Kurama's voice.

The Serpent laughed, spreading his hands in mock-surrender.  
"This should prove to be quite amusing. Don't let me stop you,  
little fire demon, and by no means let your pet fox stop you."

"It's of no concern to me who knows." Hiei spoke in a monotone.  
"I was born to the Kourime. They were afraid of me. They  
wrapped me in sutras and flung me from the lip of their floating  
world. I am certain they meant me to die; I heard what they said  
as they carried me to the edge and threw me over."

The firebird gave a wordless cry, then jammed both fists against  
her mouth, eyes wide with horror.

"But I did not die," Hiei continued. "Other demons found me. I  
grew up a thief and an assassin."

"Hiei." Kurama's word was barely a breath.

Urameshi leveled his Rei Gun at White Sands Serpent's head.  
"You're an asshole, know that?"

The white, man-shaped creature laughed. "Oh, dear, the Unwanted  
One has spoken. How eager it is to divulge its secret!" He  
turned his head slightly in Hiei's direction, lowering his voice.  
"And how right the Kourime were to fear you! Your heart is quite  
black, you know. That's why you have such easy access to the  
flames of Hell. But you were too weak to fight your would-be  
slayers back then, as an infant, and you are still a mere infant  
compared to me."

I know it. I know it. But Hiei kept his sword up and his face  
to the frozen wind.

White Sands Serpent smiled at his opponents, sliding off his  
sunglasses once again. The white eyes kept Hiei from filling his  
lungs with air.

"I say these things for your own good, you know. I have only  
your best interests at heart." White Sands Serpent folded the  
sunglasses, tucked them into the breast pocket of his black suit.  
"Don't you remember how you first encountered me at the Shrine in  
Arizona?"

"I remember," Hiei gasped. "But we got away. We got away."

"Yes. I allowed you to, that time. I was curious to see what  
you would do. An unexpected battle is so revealing of character,  
wouldn't you say? And what did you do, little demon? Tucked  
your tail between your legs and ran."

"He was protecting me!" flared Shay-san.

"Dear, dear," clucked the Serpent. "Such misplaced loyalty.  
Now, as I said, Kurama's secret is obvious---"

"Shut up," whispered Hiei.

"It is stamped all over him." The Serpent turned his head a bit,  
catching Kurama's eye. Kurama straightened to full height,  
lifting his head, silent, defiant. And the Serpent turned away  
from him.

Hiei breathed out a sigh of relief.

"But," the Serpent continued, "however delicious that one's  
futile longings might be, it is of secondary import. It's the  
devious soul of the filthy little ningen female---"

Hiei wrenched his sword up. The Serpent's head turned toward  
him; the white eyes flashed cold fire and the resulting wind  
almost knocked the katana from Hiei's hands.

"Stop," Hiei gasped, "or die."

"Oh?" The Serpent slid his hands from his pockets, spreading  
them in a mockery of supplication. "Now be reasonable. If you  
could have destroyed me, you would have done so by now. But you  
can't, and everyone in this room knows it."

"Jao Ensatsu Ken!" Dropping his shield, Hiei conjured the black  
fire sword, charged forward with a two-handed grip. He would  
pierce the Serpent's white-cold heart with a single stroke.

"Oh, dear. It attacks." Laughing, The Serpent raised his head.  
"Spinning Vortex of Ice!" At his cry, the white hair fanned  
around him like whirling blades. Hiei felt the tug. In another  
instant his black fire sword disappeared into the vortex.

No. A sword alone would not do the trick. Smacking it back in  
its saya, Hiei regrouped, slid one finger under the warded  
gauntlet that kept the Black Dragon in check. "This was good  
enough to take out half the stadium at the Dark Tournament," Hiei  
informed the Serpent. "It should be good enough to shut your  
tedious mouth."

But the other boys reacted with shock. "Hiei..." Urameshi  
warned.

"Don't!" gasped Kurama.

"Not here," Kuwabara said.

"Oh?" The Serpent ignored the other boys. "You would use the  
Black Dragon? With her behind me, directly in its path?"

Hiei hesitated, one finger still hooked in the fabric of the  
warding gauntlet.

"The one you claim to care about?" Laughing, White Sands Serpent  
aimed another blast of searing chill at Hiei.

Snarling, Hiei leapt back, snapping out his sword again, point  
held high, the blue shield humming around him. Was this all he  
had left now---a defensive posture?

"White-skinned, white-eyed coward," spat Urameshi. "How about  
some of this?" Lifting his hand, the boy's Rei Gun blazed with a  
fire Hiei knew well.

And the team leader's actions rallied the others to battle.  
Kuwabara's spirit sword sizzled with power. Kurama whirled his  
Rose Whip about his head. Even the girl half-rose, but the  
Serpent cranked his head around, quelling her with a glance.

They can still fight, Hiei thought. Only I am useless.

"Really, now." The Serpent clucked his tongue. "You can't stop  
me." His long white hair fanned out to form a distorted halo  
around his head. "None of you can. All of you together cannot.  
And as for the girl's tiny 'protector:' behold! Rooted to the  
spot in fear. Unable to move, even if his shriveled heart had  
the courage. Do you wish to see what you are truly facing? Very  
well. I will oblige: Fire at the Core of Ice!"

Hiei's heart gave a ragged thump.

Now the unbound hairs of the Serpent's braid began to glow with a  
cool light. They grew from hairsbreadth to finger-thickness and  
beyond, finally to the girth of Kuwabara's arm.

And then, when they had attained full thickness, the ends of each  
hair swelled like buds in springtime.

But these were not flowers nor leaves. The swollen ends of the  
hairs became wedge-shaped heads, then split partway down the  
middle, forming pink mouths that opened to reveal gleaming white  
fangs. White eyes slit by vertical black pupils winked into  
being; forked tongues darted from the pink mouths, testing the  
air. Not flowers nor leaves, but snakes. Their hissing filled  
the room.

White Sands Serpent raised his voice above the hissing of the  
snakes. "This is what you will have to get past to inflict any  
damage on me. Do you think you can?"

"Watch me." Urameshi leveled his gun hand at the Serpent. "Rei  
Gun!" he cried, but before the words left his lips, one snake  
shot out, wrapping itself around his hand, biting down.

Urameshi dropped to his knees, snarling in pain. White smoke  
rose from the injured hand.

"Rose Whip Lash!" Kurama's Rose Whip snapped toward White Sands  
Serpent. Another white snake met it, instantly scorching the  
whip into a useless curl of charcoal.

The girl struggled to her feet, hands clenched, as if to attack  
the serpent with nothing but her slender little fists.

There was no breath in Hiei's lungs, but he forced it out:  
"Kuwabara! Cover her!"

With a single leap, the big boy put himself between firebird and  
Serpent, his Spirit Sword blazing.

"Let the big oaf posture," said White Sands Serpent. "I don't  
even need to look at him in order to do what I came to do."

I can't move, Hiei thought, desperate. I can't make myself  
move. It was not part of his nature, to stand and do nothing.  
Or so he had believed. This was a side of himself he had not  
encountered before.

It was a stalemate. Baleful glares from Team Urameshi seemed to  
have little effect on the Serpent.

"Do you see how your attacks fail to inflict damage?" White  
Sands Serpent shrugged. The snakes whirled around his head,  
scanning for movement, their flickering tongues sensing the air,  
guarding him from every angle. "Now, to continue. This female  
and her secret: it is something not even demonkind, with all its  
unique pleasures, can fathom."

"Stuff it," growled Kuwabara. "You don't scare me."

"I'm confident I don't." The Serpent spared Kuwabara a glance.  
"You're far too stupid to know when to be afraid. But there is  
something in this room you should fear, and it is not me. You're  
supposed to be able to sense things, Carrot Top. How have you  
been unable to sense this? It's got Unclean written all over it.  
Look at her, groveling on the floor."

Hiei looked. He could not see her face; Shay-san had sunk to her  
knees, her head down, fingers clawed in the fabric of her sweat  
pants.

"She doesn't want me to say this," continued the Serpent. "She  
has taken great pains to hide it from her 'husband,' and from all  
others. I assure you, little demon, I only say it for your own  
good, because after all, ye shall know the truth, and the truth  
shall set ye free."

Hiei's firebird bowed forward, head almost touching the floor.  
"Stop it," she whispered. "Stop."

Hiei bared his fangs. But The Serpent chuckled, pointed a finger  
back at the girl. "Your little Lolita there---the truth about  
her is that she seduced her own father."

"Fool," spat Hiei. "Her parents died when she was six. These  
are the facts."

"Little demon, frozen in fear: these are the facts." White Sands  
Serpent folded his arms, a man at ease. "Apparently the Unwanted  
Kourime has even less on the ball than the idiot who thinks he's  
guarding her,"

"Shut your filthy---" began Kurama.

White Sands Serpent cut him off. "I'm afraid I cannot, for there  
is far too much at stake here to stop now." He pursed his lips,  
shaking his head. "The little demon's Jezebel knew a man's touch  
long before all of those wild high school fumblings which made  
her notorious."

Shay-san's voice was the barest scrape of sound: "Stop." But  
despite the hum of ki crackling through Hiei's shield, he heard  
her plaintive whisper. "Stop please."

"The age of six," laughed the Serpent. "Think of it. That takes  
a special kind of talent, does it not? One such as that belongs  
in Makai, wouldn't you say? She will fit right in. I will have  
a matched set, the envy of all my neighbors. And with skills  
such as hers, she shall certainly be put to good use."

"Liar," whispered Hiei.

The girl covered her face with both hands.

Kurama summoned another Rose Whip and sent it flying underhand  
toward White Sands Serpent. One of the snakes shot out and sent  
the second Rose Whip exploding to ash. This time Kurama did not  
escape unscathed; grunting in pain, he jerked back a hand covered  
in smoking ice.

Shouting now, Urameshi struggled to his feet, still clutching his  
injured hand, readying nonetheless a sheer physical assault on  
the Serpent.

Kurama stopped him with a hand to Urameshi's shoulder.

Hold fast, Kuwabara, prayed Hiei: Protect her.

As if reading his thoughts, Kuwabara extended the ki of his  
blazing golden sword, forming a wide shield.

Shay-san crouched on all fours now, shaking like a leaf in a high  
wind. One of the snakes lashed out, neatly avoiding Kuwabara's  
Spirit Sword. It struck the big boy's cheek, left a long,  
smoking ice burn. Kuwabara did not flinch.

"Ah, well." White Sands Serpent sighed. The hissing snakes  
writhed Medusa-like around his head, no longer seeking prey, but  
looking at their master. Then they subsided, shrinking back,  
losing their snake-characteristics until they were again nothing  
more than hair. "All good things must come to an end."

The Serpent's hair settled back into its long braid. He  
stretched and yawned, like a man after a lazy Saturday nap. Then  
slid his sunglasses back on, shielded those searing white eyes.  
"It's been such fun. But I think that will be all for now.  
Remember what I showed you. Remember what I told you. Think  
twice about trying to protect something so worthless as that."  
He jerked his head back in the direction of the trembling girl.

In a flash of actinic light, the Serpent vanished, leaving behind  
a flurry of snow.

And Hiei's firebird struggled to her feet, fleeing out the door  
before anyone could so much as call her name.

Hiei's shield vanished. His sword clattered from useless hands.  
He found his voice again.

"Kuwabara, go after her," he rasped.

"Gotcha." Retracting his sword, Kuwabara was out the door like a  
shot. Urameshi and Kurama made to follow.

"No, both of you, wait." Hiei sank to his knees. He felt cold,  
sluggish, slow, as though the ice would never again leave his  
system.

There was a thing in his mind. It was perhaps not a thought  
large enough to even constitute hope, but close enough to serve  
for the moment.

"The Serpent thinks he knows everything." Hiei could not raise  
his head to look at Urameshi or Kurama. "But there's one thing  
he doesn't know about her. I won't say it here. You both know  
it. So does Kuwabara, but no one else." He looked up at them at  
last, willing for them to understand without further explanation.

Nodding, Kurama and Urameshi exchanged glances.

"Yuusuke." Lurching to his feet, Hiei took the boy's frozen  
hand, and gingerly using his difficult ki, warmed the hand back  
to life. Kurama's hand had already healed.

"Thanks, man." Urameshi's battle-ki flared in his eyes for a  
moment. "That slimy bastard---"

"Both of you," whispered Hiei. "I need something. A promise not  
to reveal what you know and I know. I know the idiot will agree  
to this, because he loves her. But you---I will give anything  
you want. Take what you wish from me, bind me to any promise.  
Only never speak of that... knowledge... again."

Urameshi waved a dismissive hand. "Crap, I don't want anything  
from you."

"Hiei," Kurama began, shaking his head.

"Anything you ask!"

"Hiei," said Kurama. "I refuse."

"Anything," Hiei repeated. If he could only make his frozen legs  
move. Shaking with every step, he forced them to function, made  
himself stagger toward the door. Because there was someplace he  
needed to go.

"Hiei." Kurama called. "Look at me."

"Name your price," said Hiei, not turning.

"Look at me!"

Hiei stopped.

The sound of rain had ceased for the moment. The bird-calls  
resumed. Hiei looked at Kurama.

Kurama's eyes went hard and dangerous. "She didn't deserve that.  
No one does. I will not speak of the thing you mention. And I  
ask nothing in return."

Hiei stood blinking, unable even to find his voice to whisper  
thanks.

"Let's just say I owe her one," Kurama murmured.

0-0-0-0-0

Shayla Kidd's eyes ached, but tears would not come. She had  
answered the Blossom of Truth well the night before; even when  
she needed them, her tears had long ago run dry.

What she had learned of Hiei---it was too big even to think of  
yet. And as for her own wound---

She sprinted forward, not quite sure where she was going, but the  
forest loomed around her, dense and lush and smelling of loam.  
All she knew was that she was putting as much distance between  
herself and the temple as possible.

It wasn't long before she sensed Kuwabara, then heard him  
crashing through the bushes; his big, bold ki and way of moving  
were unmistakable.

She turned, saw him coming through the greenery. A great longing  
welled up in her to throw herself into his arms, seeking  
protection and comfort; she made herself stand stock-still and  
thought: No. He's a child. Younger than Hiei. Younger even  
than Shuuichi. I'm supposed to protect him.

Kuwabara waved at her, beaming. "There you are, Little Big  
Sister!"

"Niichan," she said, as though they were simply meeting in the  
woods for a stroll. "What brings you out here on a day like  
this?"

"Come on back with me." He fell into step with her, trying to  
steer her in the direction of Genkai's temple. "Shorty will be  
worried."

"Are you sure you want to be seen in my company, Kazu-kun?"

He cracked a grin. "Hey, I know a lie when I hear it."

She lowered her head, murmuring, "It wasn't exactly a lie."

"Yeah, but I'll stake my life that it didn't happen like that  
white-eyed bastard said it did."

"The Serpent didn't expect anyone to believe it." She gazed down  
at the ferns curling round her feet, not really seeing them. "He  
just wanted you to hear it. Dad--" She shook her head. "When  
he wasn't drinking he could be so funny, so---" She broke off,  
glancing up at Kuwabara. "You know, you're the only reason I  
stay here, you big goofball."

"Well, of course!"

She tried to give him a smile. "I never wanted you to know."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want anyone feeling sorry for me. It was what  
it was."

They were walking again---toward the temple. "Hey, listen,  
Neesan---'bout your name."

"What about it?"

"I asked my friend who goes to the St. Thomas Aquinas school.  
You Catholics, you're supposed to be named after some saint?  
Shayla's not a saint's name, unless it's short for something."

"It's not. My parents were rebelling, I guess. When I was  
Confirmed, I took the name of Giles."

"Which Saint's that?"

She gazed up into the strong-boned face. "Patron saint of  
cripples. I didn't really think at the time. It was just a name  
that sounded good. And me the biggest cripple on the planet."

"Neesan," said Kuwabara. "It's all right if you cry. Better men  
than you have fallen in these fields."

She heard him play her own words back to her. "What good will  
that do? Will it take back what White Sands Serpent told  
everyone? Will it erase what Hiei must be thinking now?"

"Neesan..."

"If it was me who told him, he might have left me, but it  
wouldn't make him weak."

"Come on! Hiei's not gonna ditch you just 'cause---"

"I'm sorry you heard such a thing. I forget sometimes, because  
of your size, but---"

"Kuwabara the man protects his own, Neesan."

"And you, Niichan, are still far too young to be exposed to this  
filth."

He shrugged. "Can't un-hear it."

She threaded her way between one thick shrub and another.  
"Exactly my point. It can't be unsaid. The Serpent was clever.  
Me and Hiei. He cut the both of us to shreds with one blow."

"Hiei's tough. He'll get over it."

"Kurama keeps saying I'm the weak link. It's true. I came in  
and busted everything up, and now you all have to scramble to  
protect me."

"Big deal," Kuwabara said gruffly. "It's what we do."

She brushed against a leaf; her hand came away wet. The leaves  
could cry. She could not. "I didn't realize it had rained."  
Lucid drops glittered and broke into diamonds.

"A little rain makes everything grow."

"Niichan, can I stay with you and Shizuru tonight?"

"I dunno. Hiei might---"

"Please."

Kuwabara stepped forward to move a branch out of her way. "Yeah,  
okay. But when Hiei comes lookin' for you I'm not gonna lie  
about where you are."

"He won't come," she sighed. "And it's just as well. I'm not  
sure I could face him at the moment."

0-0-0-0-0

Flicking rooftop to rooftop, Hiei was jumping at every shadow,  
every rumble of thunder, every flick of a leaf. It was seldom he  
traveled this way, katana raised, and in his nervous state he  
shredded a couple of incoming pigeons.

He noted the explosion of feathers and blood and thought: Too bad  
your sword only works on harmless birds. Too bad you didn't do  
half as well against the enemy.

Now there was the roof of the church. Touching down, Hiei  
bounded into the garden, then slipped inside.

Katana still in hand, he ran panting down the stairs, searching  
for the dark wooden door set in the plain white wall.

He found it, burst into Father Brian's office. The priest  
glanced up.

With him was a woman, the same one Hiei had seen before talking  
to Father Brian in the church garden. She had a clipboard, and  
she turned and gasped at Hiei, clutching the clipboard to her  
like a shield.

Father Brian rolled his eyes. "Don't you ever knock?"

"Damn it!" Hiei wanted to smash the wall. He couldn't. Not  
with all the angels and all the saints gazing down at him from  
their framed pictures. "Damn it!" He crashed a fist onto the  
desk, rattling the flotsam there.

The woman squeaked in fear.

"It's all right, Rosa, I know the little snot," soothed Father  
Brian. "You and I can finish up later."

Hiei waited for the woman to leave and the door to close.  
"Father," he said, and could say nothing more.

Father Brian reached forward to angle the vacated chair toward  
Hiei. He sank into the seat, concentrating his gaze on Father  
Brian.

"At least put that murderous thing back in its scabbard."

"Saya," Hiei corrected automatically, sheathing the katana. He  
would not look at the pictures. The awful touch of their holy  
light was bad enough.

"What's to do, son?"

"Father, I froze. Couldn't lift a finger to protect her.  
Everyone took damage but me, I alone went unscathed----"

The priest shot to his feet, alarm etched onto his pit-bull  
features. "The little colleen---is she all right?"

Hiei nodded. "No thanks to me, though." He lowered his head,  
staring at his useless hands.

"What happened, then? What was it?"

"He was white," Hiei whispered. "And had snakes for hair."

"Not that one. God save us!"

Startled, Hiei looked up at Father Brian, who was crossing  
himself, pale and shaken. "You know him? White Sands Serpent?"

"Only too well." The priest shut his eyes a moment. "Too well  
indeed. By God, you'd better fill me in on the details."

"He---he came after us in America. I didn't realize it was him.  
Just snakes---" Hiei broke off. His hands were shaking; ice  
still gnawed at his bones. "Snakes, exploding from the ground.  
All I could do was run."

Father Brian's dangerous black gaze ranged over Hiei, turning him  
inside out.

"And I couldn't stop him today. Father, I've been afraid of this  
encounter all along. I don't want to fight him. Kurama was  
right."

"Right about what?"

"Yesterday. Kurama asked if I like to fight. I couldn't answer.  
But I have been thinking on it ever since."

"Well. That was nice of the little shit, don't you think?  
Planting doubts in your mind on the eve of battle?"

"I can't blame Kurama." Hiei shook his head. "He didn't know  
this was coming. But he's right. He's right. Maybe I only  
fight because I have to. Maybe I'm not like Yuusuke, who fights  
for fighting's sake and always looks to next one with great  
anticipation. Maybe I do it because it's a means to an end. And  
I used to be good at it."

"Holy Hell." Father Brian gnawed on a broad, work-scarred thumb.  
"I don't see any swagger on you, kid. That's bad. Something's  
got to have hurt you to wipe that from---"

"The Serpent didn't lay a hand on me."

"Cut the crap. You know what I mean."

Hiei ran his tongue over dry lips. "It's something I'd rather  
not discuss."

"Whether you want to or not is irrelevant. You fought alone, so  
you lost."

"Are you crazy? My friends were all around me. They were  
unaffected, but I---"

"That's not what I mean." Father Brian slid open a desk drawer,  
took out a pint of whiskey and a couple of styrofoam cups, then  
poured two stiff drinks.

It was a measure of how deeply Hiei was shaken that he took his  
and knocked it off at a gulp. It failed to warm him.

"Poor kid." Father Brian sipped at his drink. "You're new at  
this. Maybe you don't know it, but The Prince of Lies will weave  
half-truths and set your own fears stitched neatly in among the  
lies to achieve his goal."

Once upon a time, Hiei would have vehemently denied having fears  
at all. Now he merely placed his empty cup on the desk. "You've  
told me before, Father."

"Didn't take, did it?"

Hiei shook his head in response. "You don't get it. I remember  
every word you and I exchanged. I remember everything from the  
moment I'm born. I'm a freak that way."

"Aha." Father Brian's eyes held an odd glint. "Everything from  
the moment you were born?"

Sighing, Hiei repeated, "Everything."

"I see." Father Brian propped his chin in one hand and drummed  
on the desk with the other while Hiei awaited his reply.

The hour was not late. It only felt that way. Hiei was not  
tired, not in any sense of the term he had ever known before. He  
had not fought any physical struggle, he had not run any sort of  
race, had not even performed any training maneuvers.

Yet he was dog-weary. Two creatures of white and black and red  
had met. Fire. Ice. And in the end he was the one who had  
lost.

He took a deep breath, blew it out slowly. "All right," Hiei  
said to the priest. "You say you know this Serpent. Tell me how  
to defeat him."

"Oh?" The priest skewered him with a glance. "I thought you  
just said you were afraid of him. That you don't want to fight  
him."

"Don't want to." Hiei's hands shook. He clasped them together  
to keep them steady. "Have to. He's coming back again. For  
her."

(To be continued: Another battle looms on the horizon)

-30-


	24. IB C 24: A Fighter's Heart

Author's Note: At last, I am updating again, with the four  
concluding chapters of Idiot Beloved to come in the following  
weeks. Thanks to everyone who's been reading it so far, and  
please do post your reviews. I appreciate them!

Warning for language.  
Please read Disclaimer in Idiot Beloved, Ch. 1.

Title: Idiot Beloved Ch. 24: A Fighter's Heart  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor  
Rating: T

Summary: With his greatest weapon gone, what sort of chance does  
Hiei have against the enemy?

Idiot Beloved Ch 24: A Fighter's Heart  
by  
Kenshin

Hiei faced Father Brian across the wreck of a desk, seething  
again.

The priest raised an eyebrow, faintly challenging, faintly  
mocking. "Somethin' else on your mind, kid?"

That did it. Hiei drew back his lips in a snarl of frustration.  
"All I could do was cower behind a shield!" His hands clenched  
into fists, almost cramping.

"So you've said already."

"I gave away my secret to keep her safe, but that didn't stop  
him, and now everyone knows hers! Everyone!" His fist crashed  
into the desk. An empty styrofoam cup toppled, rolled to the  
edge, fell to the floor.

"And? Tell me somethin' I don't know." Father Brian shrugged.  
"That's how the Serpent operates. What you fear exposing, he  
exposes. I'm sorry the girl had to be---"

"The Serpent---he sucked away my Black Fire Sword. No reason to  
think Fist of the Mortal Flame will fare any better. And if I  
summon the Dragon, it could destroy my teammates---and her."

Father Brian leaned forward, reaching to the floor with his left  
hand. He caught the fallen styrofoam cup between thumb and  
forefinger and held it up in Hiei's line of sight a moment, as if  
the empty cup was something of import. Then he pitched it into  
the trash. "About that Dragon. You won't like hearing this, but  
it's unlikely you can use it at all now."

"WHAT?" Hiei clutched at the edge of the desk.

"I'd have mentioned it before if we'd had more time."

"Mention it now."

"You may not be able to use the Dragon now because you can no  
longer summon the flames of Makai."

"But I've used my fire!" Hiei stopped himself. He had no wish  
to tell this priest that he lit cigarettes for old ladies.

"Here." Rummaging in a desk drawer, Father Brian came up with a  
votive candle. "Light this."

Hiei summoned a steady spark and the votive glimmered to life.  
Nothing easier.

The priest set the candle next to the bottle of scotch. "See?"

Hiei frowned. "See what?"

"Earthly flames, kid. You won't be able to summon your Koku-  
whatsit."

A phone trilled twice. Out in the corridor, the sound of quick  
footsteps.

After that first wave of dizzines, the shock of learning his  
greatest weapon was gone had a curiously calming effect on Hiei.  
He sat blinking, and after a while, sighed. "So that's why my  
Black Fire Sword didn't work."

"That's not to say your Dragon can't be retrained," continued  
Father Brian. "Some day."

"Some day is too far off."

"Let me give you a little parable, kid. I was a southpaw,  
boxing. Once hurt my hand two weeks before a bout, had to teach  
meself to develop a decent right cross." The priest rose, poking  
at the air with his right.

"I don't have weeks. All I have is tonight."

"Details, details. Now, your first adventure using Holy  
Water---making your punk friend bring it to you, anointing  
yourself. Fool thing to do. Should have waited for me, kid.  
There are tests I could have performed to see if you'd survive."

Hiei snorted in derision.

"Think it's funny?" The priest bared his own teeth. "You could  
have been vaporized. But you weren't. So we're going to gamble.

Remember what you said to me the first time we met?"

"Father, I keep telling you. I cannot forget anything, even what  
should be forgotten."

"You said you'd die to protect your family." The priest gave  
Hiei a sidelong glint. "Well. Here's your chance."

"Literally?"

"If you're lucky."

"I hang on your every word."

"Little pissant." Father Brian reached into his pocket and  
brought out a rather sizeable vial of Holy Water. "Take this.  
It's the basis of a new attack. And I warn you, this attack will  
be dangerous. Not just to your enemy, but to you."

Hiei shrugged. "Danger and I are old companions."

"This is no time for B-movie lines, you smart-assed little  
delinquent." Father placed the vial of Holy Water on the desk.  
"Take it," he repeated.

Hiei made no move to accept it.

"Maybe it's asking too much. Master a new attack in one night.  
But even knowing you as briefly as I do, I get the idea you can."

Muttering, Hiei pocketed the vial. It was easily three times the  
size of the tiny bottle Urameshi had brought him. The Holy  
Water's light spilled from the fabric, forging it into  
transparency.

Gazing at the light struggling to burst free, Hiei was surprised  
by a lurking glimmer of hope.

He had been willing to forge himself to an equal transparency in  
front of the Serpent, spilling secrets to save his friends.  
"Tell me more."

"There's a reason you're down to your sword only. I don't expect  
you to believe it, and sure's Holy Hell you won't like it."

"I haven't liked anything you've told me so far," said Hiei.  
"You might as well go for broke."

Father Brian leaned back in his chair, shot Hiei a look of pure  
triumph. "You were fighting alone."

"Are you deaf as well as irritating? I told you, everyone  
was---"

"What's that around your neck?" The priest interrupted. "Under  
your shirt."

Reaching down into his shirt, Hiei brought it out, the necklace  
that had been wrought of silver findings and darkly striated  
wooden beads. Each bead was slightly larger than a wasabi pea,  
weightless to him, the Crucifix as long as his little finger and  
carved from a bi-colored wood which made That Man in his agony  
stand out in pale relief.

"This? She gave it to me. Threw it, really. Said it was a  
present, or a test, or both."

"Wise girl, your little colleen. It's a Rosary."

"I know what it's called. Even know the prayers."

"Arrogant as always. You failed to call on its power so you  
failed to defeat the Serpent."

The votive candle in its clear glass cup was a bright spot on the  
littered landscape of Father Brian's desk. "It never occured to  
me that I could."

"And you'll fail again unless---"

"Unless what?"

Father Brian lifted the wastepaper basket, sweeping off some of  
the desk's flotsam. Then he narrowed his eyes at Hiei as if  
measuring not only the demon's height but his depths. "Not one  
person in a thousand can see the light of the Eucharist as you  
can. But not one demon in ten thousand is unscathed by Holy  
Water---or the Rosary."

"Kurama isn't bothered by---"

"Ah, yes. The brigand with the long red hair. That one's part  
human, son. That's why he can stand it. But you---you're pure  
demon. A true phenomenon." Again, the priest threw Hiei a  
challenging glance. "Think you're the only one with a memory?"

"I'm the only one with a memory that won't go away."

"And I quote: 'If demons are fallen angels, then what's a fallen  
demon?' Asking me in a roundabout way who and what you were.  
Lucifer---the name means Bringer of Light. First and foremost  
among the fallen, because he would not serve. And falling, he  
burned."

The jagged core of indelible memory stabbed him.

"No, little smart-ass, you're not that kind of demon. But light  
is your motif." Father Brian folded his hands on the desk. The  
candlelight picked out their strong, work-scarred contours. "I  
got you out of Koenma's grip, but now you're in the grip of  
what's around your neck, and it's high time you punched in.  
Black for darkness. Red for blood. White for light. An' don't  
you be thinkin' that fire does nothing but burn. It also brings  
light."

Hiei gave a startled gasp. That, too, had never occurred to  
him---the bond between fire and light. But now that the priest  
had pointed it out to him, it seemed painfully obvious.

"I'll be back," he said, and even as Father Brian opened his  
mouth to protest, Hiei flicked from the building onto the roof of  
the church.

Wind plucked at his shirt. The weather indecisive, halfway  
between sun and cloud. Pigeons wary of him now, as if  
telepathically aware of his earlier slaughter.

He looked down upon the human world, thinking that he was of  
Makai, not subject to Ningenkai rules of order.

He had never envisioned any future that included a mate---much  
less a child. Yet she had appeared and he took her.

I fell into this, he told himself. Stumbled, blundered. Almost  
accidentally. But the instant that child was conceived, my life  
changed.

And maybe none of this was by accident.

The Rosary still lay outside his shirt. He clasped the Crucifix  
in one hand. He had embraced the Cross in an offhand way,  
strictly to get to his firebird. Very well. He would embrace it  
now to save her.

Katana you ni. Hoshi you ni. Tetsu you ni: Sword, stars, iron.  
The depth and pain of his longing. For her, he told himself, and  
for the thing this has become, and for my child who will not be  
thrown away.

Even if Shay-san didn't want him any more, he would do what had  
to be done. As he always had.

In a flash, Hiei was back in the priest's office, speaking  
without preamble: "Very well, Father. This time, with eyes  
open. This time, as an act of the will."

Father Brian gazed up at him, hands clasped, his pit-bull  
features softening: Pride. Regret. Wonder. Terror.

"Just one thing," Hiei continued. "Let me stay here tonight."

"What about the little colleen?"

"She's safe with Kuwabara."

"Maybe she wants to hear from you."

Hiei shook his head. "Not now."

"Don't leave anything unsaid between you," cautioned the priest.  
"You never know when good-bye might be the last one." Father  
Brian seemed about to say something more, then cleared his  
throat, lifted the phone. "I'm on emergency status," he said.  
"Hold all calls unless they come from that Mrs. Hiei, or Rome."

"Odd," said Hiei. "Genkai's gone. So's Koenma. The last person  
I would turn to is the only one who can help me now."

"Last?" The priest rose, went to the door, opened it. Took a  
brief glance down the corridor, shut it again, returned to his  
desk. "From today, I'm the first."

Hiei inclined his head a degree or two in aquiescence.

"Now. Nothin' I can teach you about swordsmanship, except the  
sole and deadly thing I'm saving for last. Nothin' I can teach  
you about hand-to-hand. But there is one way I can toughen you  
up for the fight."

"Whatever it takes."

"Simple enough. Just tell me everything about yourself."

"Everything." Hiei drew his brows together. "Why?"

"In order to defeat the Serpent, you'll need to hear what he  
could throw at you. And believe me, it's going to get ugly."

"I can handle ugly."

"Quite sure?" The priest unscrewed the cap of the liquor bottle,  
shot Hiei a questioning glance. "Take the drink," advised the  
priest. "Your enemy's going to throw things at you that will  
hurt, and I don't mean those stupid white snakes."

"Ch. Words." Hiei shrugged. "Can't cut like swords."

"Come on, kid. You don't have time for pretense. I can see it  
in your eyes. Something bit you. So I'm going to prepare you  
for another bite, now matter how cruel." The priest gave Hiei a  
black glare, all traces of merriment gone.

There was much the Serpent could use. Hiei's life in Makai.  
What he had done to Keiko. The strange bond he shared with  
Kurama. What had already been said about his firebird. How that  
white-eyed monster could use it.

"All right." Hiei set his face like stone. "Let's do it."

"Very well. But---" Father jerked his head at the katana, Hiei's  
twitching hand still curved over the saya---"I think it might be  
best if you put that thing away for now."

0-0-0-0-0

"It might be best if you go back to him, Shay-san." Shizuru  
flicked a lighter and touched it to the tip of her cigarette.

Shayla looked away. She did not want to think of fire now.  
"Fine," she said, rising from the couch. "If you don't want me,  
I'll impose on Shiori."

"Idiot." Shizuru blew out a long plume of smoke. "That's not  
what I meant and you know it."

"You shouldn't go out alone," urged Kuwabara, standing guard at  
the window.

Shizuru had tried to get Shayla to talk. With a sixth sense that  
was even stronger than Kazu-kun's, Shizuru probably knew  
something was desperately wrong. But Shayla was not about to  
speak to anyone of what the Serpent had revealed.

Kuwabara let the curtain fall back and came to join them. "Hiei  
doesn't show it much, but he---"

"I left messages," Shayla interrupted. "If Hiei wants me he  
knows where I am. Right now, I need to talk to you."

"Okay." Kuwabara ran a hand through his blazing orange hair.  
"I'm listening."

She sank into a chair facing the couch, clasped her hands on her  
knees. "The Serpent. He's got Ronni."

That yanked a startled reaction from both of them. Shizuru  
leaned forward. "Your missing friend?"

Shayla nodded.

"How do you know he's got her?" asked Kuwabara.

"Didn't you hear? 'A matched set,' the Serpent said. That means  
the other 'miko.' He has her, and he wants me to know."

There was one vital clue she would not mention. The only person  
in the world who knew exactly what her father had done to her was  
Ronni. And Ronni would never reveal that to anyone. If she was  
in her right mind.

"But we don't know where the Serpent is." Kuwabara clenched both  
fists. "How are we gonna find that girl?"

"Why even try?" Shizuru blew smoke at the ceiling, then turned  
that strange, lidded gaze onto Shayla. "Aren't you always  
babbling things like 'God put Hiei in my path?'"

Shayla flushed. "Guilty as charged."

"So if your God did that, why not just accept the fact that He  
took Ronni in turn? An eye for an eye, isn't that how it goes?"

"That's exactly how it goes." Shayla's nails dug into her palms.  
"I'd like to take a rock and crush every eye on every one of that  
bastard's snake-heads."

Kuwabara sighed in pure bliss. "You got the true fighter's  
heart, all right. You're a good match for him."

Shayla Kidd knew that she was not, but kept that to herself.

0-0-0-0-0

Black. Red. White.

In a long black room with windows that flung red fires onto the  
black-carpeted floor, a tall, haggard miko struggled to her feet  
and faced a man-shaped creature that was not a man at all.

"Stop looking at me like that," advised the Serpent.

"You wait!" rasped the miko. "The little demon will come for  
me!"

In his immaculate black suit slashed by the blood-colored  
necktie, and his carefully-braided white hair, the man-shaped  
thing was a study in contrasts, not all of them confined to his  
own form but between the two facing one another as well: he young  
and vibrant and powerful, she faded and weak.

White Sands Serpent turned his head away from the miko, as though  
the sight of her offended him. "My, how old and ugly you look.  
Perhaps that's why you dare speak such things to me. Women.  
Astounding how you let yourselves go once there's a man in your  
life."

They were no longer in the house overlooking the glittering  
gypsum landscape of White Sands. But then they hadn't really  
been there in the first place.

Only the view had changed, a view of red skies that never knew  
the touch of stars, red skies that writhed with poisonous  
lightnings.

"I've been very, very patient with you, haven't I?" continued the  
smooth white voice. "Went out of my way to show you what happens  
to those who interfere, even though it cost me a perfectly good  
employee."

The miko put a hand to her face.

"Ah. I see that you are aware of the human who called himself  
John. Imagine, my dear, what could happen to you if I became  
truly angry."

"That demon will come for me!" insisted the miko.

"I very much doubt he will. Not even when I take away his miko."

She was in tears now. "He's strong."

"Yes, that's true." The Serpent spoke in low, soothing tones,  
placing a finger under the miko's chin to turn her face toward  
his. "Strong, in a crude, and very stupid way. But I know  
something you do not."

She jerked her chin from his hand. "And what's that?"

"He fears me. And will never again engage me, either in this  
world or the human one."

"You're lying."

"Am I?" The man-shaped thing smiled, a terrible thing to see.  
"I was there just now. I went to his world and hers."

The miko bit her lip. Red blood beaded.

"I had a lovely little visit with them, doing whatever I pleased,  
studying and cataloging all their weaknesses. And that little  
demon could do nothing against me. I stood between him and his  
miko and he could not move to save her."

The miko's legs shook. She sank to the floor again.

"And with me keeping something in reserve the whole time," said  
White Sands Serpent. "Imagine that. So you may rest assured  
that I can handle the little fire demon as well as his so-called  
friends." The Serpent strolled to the door, paused, looked back  
at the miko. "Really, my dear. You must pull yourself together.  
I'm bringing home a guest. No---make that a roommate."

0-0-0-0-0

Shayla Kidd was sick of arguing with herself, yet she still  
debated: Yes or no. Stay or go.

The hour was late. Kuwa-chan had called her lodgings "The Guest  
Room;" Shizuru-san "the place we dump all our crap."

Advantage, Shizuru. Even in the dark, it was a mess: bed wedged  
in one corner, desk in the other; shelves all around, boxes piled  
everywhere, ancient motivational posters tacked onto the walls,  
their edges curling.

One of the posters read: When Life Gives You Lemons, Make  
Lemonade.

Shayla thought she'd made some pretty decent lemonade.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she realized that when life  
handed her the particular batch consisting of drunkard parents  
and all that went with it, she'd fought back well enough, Ronni  
and family helping to turn the lemons into something that didn't  
choke going down.

But now life had just offloaded a fresh bushel. Lemons rolled  
and bounced all around her.

Sliding off the bed, Shayla fumbled past cardboard boxes to the  
desk, where she located matches and the stub of a candle.

By the faint, trembling candlelight, she got out pen and paper  
and placed them before her. Prior to writing anything, Shayla  
replayed what Shizuru had said earlier.

Shizuru stretched on the couch, the lazy curls of smoke perhaps  
masking her purpose in asking such questions. Adept at picking  
up subtle cues Shayla was, and if nothing else, the nuns had  
taught her that rethinking her position was a good thing.

Well? she asked herself; just exactly what is your position?

"Shizuru-san," she murmured, "You mistake fatalism for destiny."  
Fatalism said: 'Nothing I can do, guess I'll hide under the  
covers.' Destiny was different. Hiei had been placed in her  
path for a reason. There was an action only she could take. The  
Serpent telling her about Ronni, that wasn't just for torment's  
sake. Although, she thought, that's how it was intended. It may  
be his sole weakness.

Why not leave the fight to Hiei, born warrior? Hiei. Even back  
at the Arizona shrine she had sensed the champion in him.

Shayla's heart gave an odd little flutter. Because Ronni is not  
Hiei's friend. She's mine.

Only a human girl. Such a short time at the hands of Master  
Genkai. If she knew what was good for her she'd remain here.

White Sands Serpent, in his black suit and red tie and white  
hair. Hiei with his black and white garb, his black and white  
personality, his crimson eyes. But Hiei did not look like  
something that had just crawled from under a desert rock.

Black for darkness. Red for blood. White for light. One of  
them would conquer.

If she tipped the scales in one's favor.

Her course of action decided, Shayla sat scribbling furiously.  
The stubborn tick of an old clock urged her on.

That Hiei's story was a bad one, she'd guessed. But never as  
bad as this. Hiei did indeed have perfect memory; he showed  
evidence of it time and again. To be carried to the lip of the  
floating world---bound, helpless, understanding everything---

How he became anything other than a monster was miraculous, and  
her heart ached for him. Her father's lapse had been bad enough;  
but the bitter lemon of her mother's drunken mantra was harder to  
swallow: I wish you were never born.

Hiei probably thought it a waste of time to feel sorry for  
himself. They were indeed too much alike.

Her drive to proximity with him was powerful. But was that the  
true nature of love?

No. Wanting what was best for the beloved. That simple.

The baby, she argued. Don't you even care about endangering the  
baby? During the Blossom of Truth game, Hiei had solemnly told  
her how he "knew" so early: he had felt its ki-trace. He had  
not lied. The Blossom would have blackened.

Hiei had not lied. He had been mistaken.

There was no baby. She could not feel it, even with her sixth  
sense fully extended.

She hesitated, pen over pad, gazing at the crumpled balls of  
paper in the wastebasket. After a dozen false starts, there was  
only one thing she could think of worth saying.

Quickly, she finished the note. She would put it downstairs  
where they could not fail to deliver it.

It was simple. A mere three sentences. It read:

"Hiei. I'm sorry. Sometimes crawling across broken glass isn't  
enough."

She got up and left the Kuwabara residence before the first light  
of dawn touched the sky.

0-0-0-0-0

Kurama had battled unease all night. He gave up sleep as a bad  
job and lay staring at the faint gray stamp of the window.

He should not have tried to drive a wedge, however small, between  
Hiei and the girl, should not have allowed the Serpent to work  
him.

How they would defeat that one was a puzzle. All their attacks  
together had gone in vain, with Hiei stalled by something no one  
else could sense.

Kurama had seen Hiei in many different moods. Frozen to inaction  
wasn't among them.

Hiei, he wondered, his thoughts tinged with sadness, What do you  
see in this creature that the rest of us do not?

And the girl, bolting the temple before any of them could stop  
her. She hadn't returned; neither had Kuwabara. Hiei had  
departed soon after, leaving Kurama and Yuusuke to make their way  
back to town in studied silence.

When the phone rang at an unseemly hour and it was Kuwabara,  
urging haste, Kurama guessed what was coming.

He met the others at Kuwabara's place. Yuusuke wore that pre-  
battle gleam; Kuwabara was quiet, even dour as they exchanged  
greetings.

"I woke up early," said Kuwabara. "Shay-san left a note."

Kurama lifted an eyebrow. "What did it say?"

"Never mind what it said." Kuwabara shoved a folded piece of  
paper into his pocket. "Guys, I think she went back to the  
temple. She's gonna try to draw that one out again and face him  
alone. And I can't get hold of Hiei."

"Huge pains in the ass," said Yuusuke. "Both of 'em."

Silently, Kurama agreed.

"What do we do?" Kuwabara wanted to know.

"Hit the road," said Yuusuke. "I owe White-Eyes for a frozen  
hand."

"As do I. But how can we defeat him as we are?" Kurama  
shrugged. "You saw how easily that one dealt with us. He  
swallowed Hiei's Black Fire Sword, and I would stake my life that  
he was holding something in reserve."

"Yeah?" Yuusuke snorted a laugh. "I got a little something in  
reserve myself."

"Me, too," muttered Kuwabara.

Kuwabara's 'hunches' usually played out. The girl was clearly a  
fool, going after the Serpent herself, but they could hardly let  
her die. They must be razor-sharp and battle-ready. "We need  
help," Kurama said, hoping the girl wasn't about to become a  
coda for her own uncle's work. "And I'm not sure we can rely on  
Hiei."

"That's what you think," muttered Kuwabara, shouldering into a  
jacket. "He's off lookin' for a way to beat that creep."

"Here's an idea." Yuusuke was already at the door. "Let's get  
the asshole ourselves and save Hiei the trouble."

"I'm with you, man." Kuwabara was on his heels; Kurama followed,  
his lips curving in half a smile as both boys stopped, astonished  
by what they saw idling outside.

"Hey, wadaya know?" Yuusuke shot Kurama a look, glittery, deadly,  
joyful. "There's a cab waiting for us."

"This time," said Kurama, "I remembered to call."

0-0-0-0-0

Shayla Kidd stood in the road, listening to the cab pull away,  
wondering whether it was the same driver who had taken them back  
to the temple from the Minamino residence---was it only one night  
ago?

Yesterday's rain had washed the sky clean. She tipped back her  
head. Rose-tinted clouds greeted her gaze. The air smelled  
faintly sweet, and a chatter of birdsong surrounded her.

A glorious day to be alive.

She stopped, teasing the few birdcalls she knew from the tapestry  
of sound: the trill of the Jujube, the incessant gobbling of  
pigeons, and the bird whose name she did not know, whose cry  
sounded like "Cheapskate! Cheapskate!"

It was probably making a nest. Spring, the time of birth.

Shayla Kidd ducked into the temple. It was too much to hope  
Genkai would be back.

The temple was empty. In the large practice room where Hiei had  
teased about her clumsy way with a sword, Shayla spotted her  
bokken, leaning against the wall.

The wooden sword, useless enough against bulls, would be worse  
than useless against the Serpent. She left it behind, standing  
in the corner where Hiei had put it.

A lifetime ago.

Having gone after Ginger when the fool dog was endangered by  
those marauding bulls, Shayla knew the stakes here were a bit  
higher.

Hiei, she thought, as she walked from the temple: I'm sorry.  
You'll never know how sorry. I wish I could see you one more  
time.

"Come on, White-Eyes, where are you," she muttered, prowling the  
grounds, set to notice everything.

A Jujube-bird flicked from branch to branch, following her,  
bathing her in its liquid song: "Juju, juju, beebeebee." In the  
background pigeons gobbled and the Cheapskate sounded its woes.

On the other side of the world, Helen and Robert Spencer were  
probably turning on a spit. Their daughter had been missing for  
a couple of weeks. Missing girls were in the news all too  
often; Ronni's parents must surely know how those stories ended.

Shayla also knew what Hiei would say about her decision:

--Were you responsible for her capture? No? Then why do you go  
after her?

Because maybe I am responsible, she replied in silence. Running  
off with my fire demon while Ronni was in the Serpent's grasp.  
Because of Eve's mistake that gave power to the Serpent in the  
first place. Because she's my friend and I love her.

"Come on," she urged. "Where are you? I'm all alone, no Hiei in  
sight, no sword, no gun. You know the drill."

What that one wanted from Ronni, Shayla Kidd was unsure. What  
did she and Ronni have in common?

All right. A lot. But what in common that was of use to the  
Serpent? We both lived at the temple, both dressed as miko.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," she sang, then paused.

Both dressed as miko. How would that benefit the Serpent? If we  
really were miko, she thought, he might want to destoy us. Miko  
have powers, don't they?

Ronni and I, we have none.

Wait. That's not entirely true. Genkai called me a Spellcaster.  
I only half-believed it.

Though Genkai had taught her one, no, two basic spells, she had  
suspected at first it was the reiki master who caused Yuusuke to  
levitate and stars to whirl around his head.

But isn't it true, she reflected, that for most of my life, when  
I call, something happens? Ginger came to me, back when the  
bulls threatened her. And I called again, and Hiei came like---

No answer. No one responded this time to her call. She listened  
to birdcalls, holding her breath. Nothing.

Just as well, she thought.

Limp now with relief, she headed back for the temple. She would  
phone another cab to take her back to the city.

She had gone only three steps when she realized something was  
wrong. Stilling her entire body, she listened for what was  
different about the world.

The birds. The birds had fallen silent, their song cut off as if  
by scissors.

Then they exploded from the trees in a panic of wings.

Behind her, the quiet sibilance of breathing. Her heart slammed  
against her ribs. Each hair on her head bristled in the sudden  
cold. Inch by inch, she turned to face her foe.

"You called?" White Sands Serpent, hands in pockets, tilted his  
head. "I was really hoping for a delivery, but as you can see,  
we do pickups as well."

"You have Ronni." Her heart was pounding so hard her voice  
wobbled like an old woman's.

"Ah." The Serpent lifted an eyebrow. "My hopes have soared!  
You're not nearly as unaware as you appear."

I'm twice that, she thought, coming against you alone.

But for everything the Spencers had given her. A home for  
Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter, so she would not be left  
alone at school. Loyalty. Hope. Courage.

Lemonade.

She set herself, sucked in a deep breath, shouted, "Give me back  
my friend!"

The clearing rang with echoes. And the Serpent blinked, teetered  
back a step.

Clenching her fists, Shayla advanced on him. "Give her back,"  
she snarled. "Now!"

But whether he had reeled out of shock, or amusement, or sheer  
disbelief, the Serpent recovered quickly.

"Give you back your friend?" mocked the Serpent. "Oh, but I  
can't. She came to me willingly. Of her own accord. She does  
not wish to go back."

"Liar," she challenged.

The Serpent looked her up and down, clucking his tongue. "Poor  
girl, you must be tired. He's left you, hasn't he? That  
cowardly little demon. Pity. These mixed marriages never really  
work out."

"He isn't here, if that's what you want to know."

"Oh, I know far more than that. I know he is not coming to your  
rescue this time." White Sands Serpent shook his head, a small,  
neat gesture of regret.

"Probably not." Shayla wondered where the Serpent had come  
from---underground, like the snake that attacked them at the  
Arizona shrine?

"He's filled with disgust, you know." White Sands Serpent gave a  
sigh, finely drawn, speaking of infinite sorrows. "Though he was  
enjoying you for a while. You know how men are." Then he  
smiled. "Oh, but how clumsy of me---of course you know how men  
are. I forget. You are indeed an expert in the field."

She licked dry lips. "So you keep telling me."

"Come now, you don't really believe he meant to stay with you? A  
power-hungry creature like that. He knows nothing of loyalty."  
The Serpent delicately laced his hands. "The only reason he stays  
with the other boys is because the little Lord of the Underworld  
forces him. He's serving out a sentence, you see. Crimes  
against humanity and what-not. Probably itching at the yoke by  
now. You know how fast that one likes to move."

Underworld. So that was where the Serpent was keeping Ronni.  
Shayla flicked a glance past the Serpent. She had not witnessed  
his arrival. He could have emerged from the earth.

"Cat got your tongue? For a moment there I thought you might  
prove a worthy opponent. Now I see you're just another creature  
of sodden, corrupt flesh. Nothing on your mind but cheap romance  
novels. Pity."

"That's me all over." Shayla extended her senses, searching for  
some difference in the air, some flow of energy that would reveal  
how the Serpent was coming and going.

"Not that the little demon loved you in the first place," he  
added.

I know it, she thought. Easy to believe in Mirakuru Romansu when  
no one else is around.

"All righty then." She raised her head. White Sands Serpent  
regarded her as though he was a CEO, fit, cool, and quite  
concerned with a disappointing employee. "If you won't give her  
to me, then take me to her."

"Why, certainly, Shay-san. I am more than happy to oblige." He  
flicked up a hand. Off came his sunglasses, revealing the white,  
snake-slit eyes.

A soft breeze riffled the leaves. The sun pierced through the  
cold that surrounded her, warming her, making her a bit woozy.  
Her head spun, and her vision blurred.

Of course Hiei no longer wanted her. But here was this nice man  
who did, come to take her home. Home, to Uncle Paul and Aunt  
Carmel. She was filled with a great longing to see them again.  
And this man could help. She took a step toward him.

His hair unbraided itself and fanned out around his sleek white  
head.

And like a bucket of cold water to her face, that brought her out  
of it. Shayla leapt back from the fanning hair.

Too late. The ends of the hairs swelled, budded, then split:  
pink mouths, flickering tongues. White eyes, white like the eyes  
of the Serpent, tracked her.

One of the snakes shot forward. She dodged, but it anticipated.  
Wrapping around her with powerful coils, it lifted her from the  
ground.

0-0-0-0-0

Hiei had never allowed himself to speak of the things he'd told  
Father Brian during the night.

It was the reason Hiei did not drink, did not carouse. Such  
things made you weak. Made you vulnerable.

And to admit to vulnerability in Makai was to paste a Kill Me  
Hard sign on your back.

Early morning, the sky washed clean by rain. Another day in  
which to fight, another day in which to redeem himself.

The priest's desk was littered with crushed styrofoam cups and  
crumpled papers. The priest himself matched the appearance of  
his desk.

Father Brian had been right. The night had gotten ugly. Wise  
holy man, to insist Hiei disarm before they'd begun! More than  
once, Hiei's hands itched to grab his katana and eviscerate the  
one who was flinging his own past up at him. But---

Easier by far to have Father Brian call him an arrogant little  
shit; he much preferred it to those moments when the fierce black  
eyes swam with unshed tears.

Hiei could not afford to weep. So he had kept his gaze down and  
his voice a monotone as he spoke of his "childhood."

Heels clicked down the hall. Outside, somewhere up on the roof,  
pigeons gossiped. Hiei's ears were set to catch everything.  
Stretched out in the metal chair, he felt drained, yet curiously  
light, as if he might float when he stood up.

"Don't leave anything unsaid between you," the priest had  
cautioned him last night. "You never know when it's good-bye."

He and his firebird. They had both left far too much unsaid.  
Father Brian had laid out the rudiments of a new and powerful  
attack---one he readily admitted Hiei might not survive.

Leaning forward, Hiei eased the cramps in his back. He stood,  
picked up his katana, strapped it on, then flicked into his  
mantle. Took a breath so deep his ribs crackled. The time for  
posturing was over.

Father Brian grinned tiredly and rubbed his eyes. "That's it,  
son." He stopped to let loose a gigantic yawn. "You're as ready  
as I can make you."

"Father, one last thing."

"What is it, boy?"

Hiei hesitated, unsure how to frame the question. "Why am I so  
frightened of the Serpent?"

The priest snorted. "It's fundamental."

"If it is I wish you'd explain."

"Yuusuke, Kuwabara, Kurama, they're just window-dressing for this  
little set piece. The Serpent has focused all his power on you."

"But why me?"

"Because the Serpent knows its true enemy." Father Brian jerked  
his head at a portait on the wall.

Hiei's gaze followed---to the painting of the swordsman.

St. Michael the Archangel, poised to thrust his deadly blade into  
the head of the serpent that writhed at his feet. Young and  
powerful and filled with the joy of battle.

Hiei wondered if that one could---indeed, would---fight by his  
side. But it was Father Brian who came to him now, standing  
silent, hands behind his back, waiting.

The fire demon turned in puzzlement. "What?"

"This." And Father Brian enfolded him in a brief, fierce hug  
that Hiei, to his utter shock, returned in kind.

"Forbidden Child," said the priest, "Sword of Heaven, go with my  
blessing. And kick his sorry ass."

-30-

(To be continued: Will help arrive in time?)


	25. IB C 25: Raising Ki

Title: Idiot Beloved Ch. 25: Raising Ki  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor, and Beyond  
Rating: T

Summary: The Serpent has more than one trick up his sleeve, as  
Hiei and friends are about to discover.

Author's Note: We're closing in on the climax---I am grateful to every one who's taken the time to comment on my story. Please review! 

Idiot Beloved Ch 25: Raising Ki  
by  
Kenshin

Arizona, late afternoon, a veil of red dust hanging in the white-  
baked desert air.

Helen Spencer stood staring out the French doors, holding a mug  
of coffee that had long since gone cold.

The view---that useless, weed-stubbled corral---reminded her  
unhappily of the day poor little Shayla met up with the rampaging  
black bull.

Two boys appeared in the doorway leading to the hall, glancing  
uncertainly at one another before sidling up to their mother.  
Kenny and Trace were supposed to be doing homework, but Helen  
didn't have the heart to scold her sons back into their room.

The tick of claws on flagstone announced Ginger's arrival.  
"Catch her," Trace urged his older brother; the shaggy little  
mutt made a half-hearted dodge as Kenny grabbed her collar, then  
with an apologetic wag of her stumpy tail, settled at his feet.

"No more running off for you," Kenny told her.

Helen drew a breath like a dry sob.

And then, Robert, coming in after the dog, relieved Helen of her  
cold coffee. The worried family huddled together, facing  
the landscape of desert and jagged mountains beyond.

"Ronni," Helen whispered. "Baby. Where are you?"

Trace announced, "Betcha Hiei knows."

Robert Spencer angled his head to peer down at his younger son.

"Now why would you think a thing like that?"

Shrugging, Trace said, "I just do."

Pressed against Helen's feet, Ginger thumped her tail and whined.

0-0-0-0-0

Shayla Kidd struggled against the snake. Suspended above the  
ground, she felt its cold dry scales scrape her exposed arms; its  
acrid reptile stench clogged her nostrils. The snake's head,  
heavy and doglike as an anaconda's, was on a level with her own,  
its cold, wicked eyes alight with an inhuman glitter as they  
regarded her without either passion or mercy.

Anaconda, she thought. Constrictor.

"Fool of a girl." White Sands Serpent laughed at her, his arms  
folded in lazy repose. "You've proven yourself to be like all  
the others: an unworthy opponent. Oh, how dreary a life this is,  
never to encounter a peer, much less a superior! Take pity on  
me in my loneliness. But still, you mustn't allow my pain and  
grief to worry you. Lemons into lemonade, you know. For  
example, I find I can still make use of you, weak though you  
are."

What a comfort, she thought, straining both arms against the  
enfolding coils.

Whether by sheer luck or instinct, Shayla had filled her lungs  
with air an eyeblink before the snake wrapped around her. Each  
loop of its body was as thick as her thigh, and could easily  
crush her to liquid.

Snakes of that size were immensely powerful. Constrictors,  
however, killed their prey not by crushing, but by suffocation,  
the coils tightening with each release of the victim's breath,  
the poor struggling animal unable to draw another, until it died  
of oxygen deprivation.

But these coils weren't constricting her. Not yet. They  
were---what?

They were holding her still, while White Sands Serpent remained  
immobile, his lips parted, his face rapt with joy.

She could still breathe, and yet she was weakening. Why?

The answer came in a rush: she was weakening, but the coils were  
not suffocating her. This snake was feeding off her life force.

With the sickening feel of hot liquid being siphoned to the  
surface of her skin, her ki, spirit aura, or whatever the boys  
called it, was slowly, inexorably, leaving her body.

But Shayla Kidd was not alone.

Inside her---she could feel it now---lived another, smaller spark  
of life, helpless, dependent upon her, its cry of pain faint but  
audible as the greedy reptile tugged at its fragile ki.

It was true. Everything Hiei had told her was true. There was a  
little hanyou! And if she did not do something fast to protect  
it, its small life would be siphoned into the snake.

She had not sensed its presence before because the little one had  
been so happy---warm, safe, content in its shelter. And now,  
because of her foolishness, her inability to believe, it knew  
pain and fear.

She went zero at the bone. Hiei! Oh, dear God. I'm so sorry.

Heedless now of saving herself, Shayla Kidd flung her own life  
energy at the ravenous snake.

She was stalling, and knew it. Her action could only stave off  
the inevitable. White Sands Serpent would suck the life from  
both of them, and the baby, with its smaller, weaker life force,  
would die first.

But maybe someone would hear, and take revenge.

Shayla snatched at every scrap of knowledge Genkai had crammed  
into her about spirit auras, gathered that knowledge, and  
integrated her own life force into a makeshift shield. She  
envisioned a blue dome, crackling with the force of her own ki, a  
dome much like the one Hiei could summon. She made it expand in  
her mind, push away the feeding snake, fend off White Sands  
Serpent. Her ears pounded with the effort.

The Serpent laughed. "How cooperative of you," he chuckled, and  
she felt him gorging on her ki through the medium of the white  
snake, tugging greedily on muscle and tendon. "So you have  
decided to become a good girl at the end, in spite of yourself.  
A pity you won't live to enjoy the fruits of your virtue."

The edges of her vision curtained to black. A whirl of white  
sparks fizzed against her eyes. She was losing consciousness.

And a rush of wind raked her face. Her blood, roaring like a  
river in her ears, signalled a last rallying cry of body and soul  
before the ultimate dark. Her head flopped back, came to rest on  
a thick coil of snake; her eyes opened.

Blue sky.

She wondered why there was a speck marring the cloudless  
perfection of azure, a speck of dark, descending, unless Death  
itself came in the guise of a falling bird, wings outstretched,  
come to lead her to Judgment.

Not Death. Death did not have that starburst flash of white in  
his hair.

Hiei!

He came whistling down like a bomb, the sun turning his katana to  
a lance of flame. A knot that had nothing to do with the choking  
snake welled in her throat. But she was so weak she could not  
even cry out to him.

Landing full-force next to the Serpent, Hiei slashed the  
imprisoning snake close to the body of the enemy. It shattered,  
released her. She dropped gasping to the ground, sprawled  
anyhow; in the same instant Hiei spun, thrusting the katana back  
and up and through the Serpent's left thigh.

There came a gout, not of blood, but of yellow ichor that smoked  
on the grass.

Staggering, White Sands Serpent clapped a hand to his wounded  
leg.

"Hiei," she choked out.

In coming after the Serpent, Shayla had set herself to be cold  
and hard and desolate---a necessary condition of her self-  
sacrifice. Now, with Hiei's arrival, warmth reclaimed her.

Whirling, he grasped her forearm; for a flicker, their gaze met.  
Her heart leapt in response. Unlike the time when she'd tackled  
the bulls alone, he did not waste breath on recriminations.  
"Stick the dismount," he whispered, then lifted her and flung her  
back toward the trees.

Flipping in mid-air, Shayla managed a hard four-point landing;  
the impact rattled her bones, hurt her hands and knees. The loss  
of so much spirit energy made her dizzy and sick.

She managed to raise her head to see Hiei, standing between her  
and the Serpent, the way he had stood between her and El  
Chupacabra.

The breeze plucked at his white shirt. "Your opponent is me,"  
Hiei said, calm as ice.

"So." White Sands Serpent bared his teeth. "The little lapdog  
has decided against better judgment to return."

"That's right." The muscles bunched in Hiei's arms. "I owe you  
payback."

"Oh? But I fear not. You see, I have more in reserve: Coil of  
Healing Light!" White Sands Serpent sent out another snake-hair,  
not at Hiei but directed toward his own body. Its pink maw gaped  
as it wrapped itself around his slashed thigh and clamped onto  
the wound.

A steam of sulphur-stinking light rose from the contact between  
snake and leg, and then the Serpent reached down and snapped off  
the snake-head. It shattered to powder that the breeze sifted  
away; the rest melted smoking into the grass.

"Good as new," The Serpent laughed.

"You're self-sealing. Nice trick." Hiei whirled the katana  
overhead in one hand, a battle stance Shayla had never before  
seen, not shielded, not crouched, but fiercely upright, blade  
spinning so fast it became a whetstone of fire.

She never saw Hiei move; suddenly he was ten feet to the left of  
The Serpent, his beautiful frame stretched in follow-through.  
Another gout of yellow ichor burst forth; this time from The  
Serpent's arm.

The air blurred; Hiei was once again between her and the Serpent  
before the enemy's blood could burn the ground. For an instant  
she saw two of Hiei.

Then they coalesced, and Hiei stood, sword up, pale ichor  
dripping from its point to sear the grass.

"Nice job," said White Sands Serpent, stanching the flow with  
another snake, casually snapping off its head when it had done  
its job. "But what else would I expect from such an expert  
assassin as yourself? You didn't gain your sterling reputation  
in Makai for helping little old ladies cross the street---you  
gained it for your sneak attacks on stronger foes."

Hiei said nothing, but stood at guard.

Slowly, The Serpent cranked his head around to look at Shayla.  
The white eyes danced with yellow-blue fires. "Did you know, dear  
girl, that this one slaughtered his companions, the very souls  
who took him up from the dirt into which he tumbled and raised  
him out of the goodness of their hearts? And do you know he did  
this before he even reached the age of---"

"Big deal," she answered, though her voice shook. "In America we  
shoot five people before breakfast just to warm up."

The Serpent hesitated, then nodded. "It's good to see you still  
have some fight left in you. I would hardly want a worn-out husk  
as my prize."

Another blurring of air. Hiei reappeared on the Serpent's right  
side, fresh ichor dripping off his sword.

White Sands Serpent put one hand to his right thigh, stumbled,  
hissed. Then he laughed. "Please, Sir. May I have another?"

"If you insist," Hiei said, complying, then returning so fast she  
could not track his movement.

The Serpent shook his head, directing two of the snake-hairs to  
the wounds on both legs.

Hiei stood between Shayla and Serpent, his stance watchful, ready  
for combat. His very appearance flooded her with hope, and a  
good healthy dose of anger. If there was something she could do  
to help finish this reptile!

"I see you're not much against a true fighter," she rasped.  
"Attacking women is more your speed."

"If you call yourself a woman," said the Serpent.

"Bide a bit," she replied. "When the sun goes down and you are  
frozen where you stand, I'll finish you off with a rock. Your  
skin will make a nice handbag."

"You seem to have such a limited perspective on the powers of the  
Serpent." He gave a thin cut of a smile. "But then I expect a  
feeble mind such as yours thinks only in terms of concretes."

"No, she got it," said Hiei. "She got it. Snakes cannot  
control their body temperature. You don't manufacture your own  
energy. That's it, isn't it? Whether it's from the sun or some  
other source---that is your weakness."

"If it comes to that, then you and I share at least one trait,  
little fire demon." The Serpent narrowed his eyes at Hiei. "You  
eat food to live, I eat souls. There's no real difference."

"Comparing souls and food?" Hiei lifted a lip. "You might want  
to brush up on your philosophy."

"Perhaps you might care to brush up on yours," said The Serpent.  
"If we're counting souls, then how many have you sent to the  
tender mercies of Koenma in your chequered career?" His  
expression softened. "Oh, but I forget---you've reformed."

"Talk is cheap," said Hiei, flicking in low. But even Shayla  
could see him move this time, and the Serpent sent one of his  
snake-hairs flying out to deflect the blow.

"At least your previous attacks had the virtue of surprise," said  
the Serpent. "This one..." He shrugged. "I've seen it four  
times now. How commonplace. And here I was hoping for some  
variety, some fun."

Ignoring Hiei now, The Serpent turned a caustic glare onto  
Shayla. "And as for you, little Jezebel, fallen Daughter of Eve.  
Did I imply that you are common? Oh, my, no. Far from it, You  
are in fact unique. Yours is the ki-print that feeds me. Yours  
and that of the other one, who is almost used up."

"Ronni," she whispered, still on hands and knees. "You---"

"Oh, yes." The Serpent slitted his eyes. "You and that wasted  
slag-heap are of a kind. It wasn't merely your wild and indecent  
ways that drew you two together. It was your energy signature.  
So rare, delicate, and so very sustaining! In that regard you  
are one in a million. Why do you suppose that animal-demon you  
call El Chupacabra attacked you in the desert?" He flicked a  
contemptuous glance at Hiei. "Merely so this undersized coward  
could show off his muscles? No. It wanted to feed on you,  
too---but in a different way altogether."

Advancing, Hiei whirled his sword again. "Too bad you won't get  
the chance for another snack."

The Serpent ignored Hiei to concentrate on Shayla. "Did you  
know, girl with no saint's name, that your demon lover has less  
experience than you? Of course, now that we come to think of it,  
everyone has less experience than you. Still. Doesn't that  
amuse? Tainted bride, virgin groom."

Hiei's laugh sounded above the shriek of his whirling katana.  
"You say that as though I should be ashamed."

White Sands Serpent flashed him a smile. "I'm getting to you,  
little demon. Be patient."

"Patience is not my virtue."

"True. I cannot find any virtue about you at all."

"Quit throwing stones for now." Hiei's shoulders rippled.  
"You're the one in a glass house."

"I have as much right to live as both of you," countered the  
Serpent. "I suppose you've never known what it's like to have to  
crouch in darkness and hope for someone to come to you. I  
suppose you've never known a moment of loneliness. Oh, wait."  
He paused, regarding each of them in turn. "What could I  
possibly be thinking? Who am I addressing but the cast-off  
Kourime and the girl whose parents loved the bottle more than  
they loved her?"

Shayla closed her eyes a moment.

"You're old, Serpent," Hiei said. "And tired. This poor weak  
Daughter of Eve stands in authority over you."

"Weak?" The Serpent laughed. His hair lifted, fanning about his  
form like a twisted halo. "Yes. Attack the weak link. Sound  
strategy. I would have expected even such a basic mind as yours  
could grasp that concept. But you misunderstood one crucial  
detail, little demon."

Hiei lifted a lip. "I understand killing you."

"And you, little girl." The Serpent spread his arms, whole  
again, no sign of any of the injuries Hiei had dealt him. "When  
it comes down to it you really are a stupid woman, as this one  
calls you. Did you honestly believe you were the weak link?  
You're simply bait for the one who is. And once that one is  
gone, I can collect my reward at leisure."

Hiei raised his katana. The Serpent gave a sibilant laugh.

"Unwanted Kourime. Making calf-eyes at a girl until your  
strength is that of a newborn. The weak link isn't the girl.  
The weak link is you."

The tip of Hiei's sword dipped. His eyes widened.

The Serpent gave Hiei a pitying glance. "Why do you think you  
fought alone, all your years in Makai? Lived alone? Forming  
only temporary alliances, dissolved once each theft or  
assassination was completed?"

Silence.

"The answer is simple. No one wanted to fight by your side."

Shayla could see Hiei wince; it hurt her as well.

"They all saw through your facade of the swaggering assassin,"  
continued The Serpent. "The great demon Hiei? Hardly. Even  
common Makai thieves could see down to the weak and sniveling  
heart within."

Hiei did not move a muscle.

He's lying, Shayla shouted: Don't listen! But her words never  
reached the air. She struggled to rise, to get her legs under  
her so she could draw breath, but the snake had drained far too  
much of her ki.

Get up, she told herself. My ribs hurt. Why? Hiei didn't toss  
me that hard. Get up now.

All you have to do is push off with your hands. Simple. What's  
stopping you?

She glanced down at her hands, flat on the grass. Whose hands  
were those? Not hers, surely. The hands of an old woman,  
spotted with age, veins writhing along their wrinkled backs like  
thick blue worms.

No, she thought. Focus elsewhere. Do something. Fight.

She felt the tree trunk at her back and, using it for leverage,  
inched sweating and panting to her feet.

To see a moment of perfect stillness: Hiei, facing White Sands  
Serpent. Serpent, gloating over his latest victim.

Then Hiei, sliding his feet apart, twisting his torso to reach  
for the blade, bending at the knees in preparation for another  
attack.

The Serpent's hair whirled like a rippling white sea. Hiei leapt  
straight overhead, sword slashing down. Two snake-hairs soared,  
caught Hiei mid-air, slammed him to the ground so hard Shayla  
heard the breath whistle from his lungs.

Hiei struggled to free himself. And above her, the leaves gave a  
gentle sigh.

"Rose Whip Lash!"

Kurama had arrived. From the branches, his Rose Whip sang its  
bloodthirsty tune, licking into the snakes, shattering them to a  
thousand icy crystals.

The kitsune landed lightly beside the fire demon, gave Hiei a  
sidelong grin.

"What took you so long?" Hiei grinned in return.

"The cab driver had a bit of trouble with my directions," replied  
Kurama.

"Ah." White Sands Serpent flicked a glance from Kurama to Hiei.  
"I see reinforcements have arrived. However, I fear it's a bit  
too early to celebrate."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Kurama matched The Serpent with an  
elegant insolence. "You never know who might be arriving with  
balloons and party cake."

"Fire at the Core of Ice!" Flinging out his arms, The Serpent  
sent two thick snake-heads hurtling toward Kurama and Hiei, their  
fanged maws gleaming pink.

And then the underbrush erupted: Yuusuke, landing with a solid  
thump behind White Sands Serpent, who twisted his head to keep  
the dark-haired youth in sight.

"Hey, Uncle, hold still!"

The Serpent lifted his lip. "You little---"

"Shotgun!" Yuusuke's energy blast drove upward, cutting off the  
snakes in mid-strike, showering The Serpent with icy sparks.

"Spirit Sword!" Charging out from the trees, Kuwabara wielded a  
golden sword ablaze with his ki, powerful arms slashing Reiki-  
Ken at White Sands Serpent as though the enemy was nothing more  
worrisome than underbrush.

A breathless cheer was the best Shayla could muster.

"Come now---you'll have to do better than that!" Recovering his  
equilibrium, The Serpent called another attack, conjuring snakes  
that wrapped around Kuwabara's Spirit Sword. Cold energy met  
heat energy in a flare of battling ki until both fizzled out.

The combatants paused, taking one another's measure. At the  
center, The Serpent. Behind him, Yuusuke. To his right, Kurama.  
To his left, Kuwabara. Standing between Serpent and Shayla, Hiei.

"Well." The Serpent adjusted the lapels of his black suit. "I  
see the cavalry's arrived just in time to save the runt of the  
litter." But for the first time since Shayla had seen him, he  
was breathing hard, looking less than pristine.

"Why don't you lie down and take a nap, Uncle?" advised Yuusuke.  
"I'd hate to shoot an old guy in his sleep but I'm sure that with  
enough therapy I'll get over it."

"Yes." Kurama gave a polite little smile. "We both owe you for  
taking some damage yesterday."

"Me, too," growled Kuwabara. "And I always pay my debt."

"Whereas this little one took no damage at all." White Sand  
Serpent nodded in Hiei's direction. "Hardly seems fair to the  
rest of you, does it?"

"Don't worry, White-Eyes," said Hiei. "This time I'll give you a  
sporting chance."

"Good," said the Serpent, smiling. "Then let me show you  
something. Up until now, I've just been toying with all of you."

The boys exchanged uneasy glances. Shayla's belly gave a slow  
twist.

"That's right," White Sands Serpent continued. "Toying is the  
word. Benevolent soul that I am, I had no intention of harming  
anyone. However, you've forced my hand, managed to irritate me  
at last with your ill-mannered, inconsiderate, guttersnipe brand  
of harrassment. Very well. Let us see how you will deal with  
this."

White Sands Serpent flung out both hands, crying: "Storm of  
Mortal Peril!"

Snake-strands writhed together, hissing like steam engines,  
giving off a crackle of violet-hued energy. They shot from The  
Serpent's head, meeting each boy in turn. One wrapped around  
Kurama's legs, yanked him from his feet; others simultaneously  
bowled over Kuwabara and Yuusuke. Yet another flashed along the  
ground to wind around Hiei and lift him high, only to smash him  
down again.

Shayla gave a weak cry of dismay.

"And now, little fire demon," purred The Serpent, "I do believe  
you've taken some damage at last."

Glaring at the Serpent, Hiei burst free of the imprisoning snake,  
his arms scored with cuts. The others also freed themselves,  
then fanned out. Laboring for breath, Yuusuke and Kuwabara now  
stood shoulder to shoulder at the Serpent's back, while Hiei and  
Kurama stood at right and left flank, all in battle stance.

"He bleeds," Hiei informed them, gasping. "Yellow."

"Good to know," called Yuusuke, pointing his Rei Gun. Kurama  
readied his Whip; Kuwabara his Sword. But all of them now  
appeared to have taken damage, wobbly, unsteady on their legs.

The Serpent gave them a low, hissing laugh, taunting them. "Oh,  
but this is too wonderful---I see none of you quite gets it as  
yet, not even the so-called fox-boy. Come, Kurama, where are  
your brains?"

"You're the one who's gonna get it," threatened Kuwabara, while  
Kurama remained silent and Yuusuke tried to catch his breath.

"Storm of Mortal Peril!" The snakes bowled them over again, and  
again they regrouped. Team Urameshi tried different  
combinations, different formations. Kurama summoned a dance of  
slashing Rose Petals; Yuusuke attempted a physical assault,  
launched a blinding series of kicks and punches, while Kuwabara  
severed snake-hair after snake-hair, and Hiei managed to keep  
himself between her and the white whips.

"Come now," chuckled the Serpent. "More of the same? The more  
energy you expend, the more I can siphon off."

"Details, details," gasped Yuusuke, getting off another shot that  
was deflected by a striking snake.

Snakes boiled from White Sands Serpent's head and knocked Yuusuke  
down. Kurama countered with a Rose Whip; The Serpent sizzled it  
into a useless curl of charcoal.

"This is becoming tedious." Scowling, White Sands Serpent  
clenched both fists. "High time I ended it."

The boys said nothing, all of them breathing hard, but Shayla  
wondered---

"Storm of Mortal Peril!" Snake-hairs flicked out, then returned,  
almost faster than Shayla could see. The boys glanced at one  
another in frustration.

"Dammit," growled Kuwabara. "I'm gettin' tired of this."

The Serpent laughed, as though privy to some joke whose punchline  
only he could understand.

"I'll deal with you in a second, Uncle," wheezed Yuusuke, bracing  
his hands on his knees to suck oxygen.

"No." Kurama, his voice low and shaking, put out a hand to steady  
himself. "No. Something's wrong----"

"What the hell's going on?" Hiei, staggering, glanced from  
Kurama to Kuwabara to Yuusuke. "This isn't that tough a battle.  
I shouldn't feel---"

"Like there were lead weights tied to my ankles," finished  
Yuusuke.

"He's done something to us," gasped Kurama, sinking to his knees.

"Ten points to the fox-boy," crowed the Serpent.

"I can't seem to shake it," muttered Hiei. "But it's different  
from the last time we faced this one."

"Now that's the look I want to see," said The Serpent. "The look  
of defeat! How I wish I had a camera to record this."

"Record what, you sicko?" wheezed Kuwabara.

The Serpent raised a hand to his mouth, coy. "Each time an  
attack of yours meets one of mine, you lose more of your aura."

Of course, thought Shayla. That would explain their poor  
showing. But how was that happening? The Serpent couldn't feed  
off their ki. He had said it was only her energy signature he  
could consume. So where was their energy going?

She strained her eyes at the battle, searching for the key.  
There. She could see it now. Hovering above the snakes in a  
faint golden cloud, encapsulated within a barrier of crackling  
violet, was the boys' stolen aura---a huge mass of it. She  
herself was exhausted, and all she was doing was leaning on a  
tree. She could only imagine how the boys must feel, fighting  
with half their strength gone.

Hiei, by himself, had fared better against the Serpent. He had  
the element of surprise, of freshness. But the Serpent had fed  
off her ki, had powered up.

Now even Hiei was tiring, judging by the way he held himself,  
neither ramrod straight nor crouched to draw weapon but wavering,  
hand on knee. Yuusuke tottering, perhaps unable to summon  
another Rei Gun, Kurama gasping for breath, Kuwabara's Spirit  
Sword fizzzled to the size of a switchblade.

They needed their stolen energy back.

Genkai. The old lady had time to teach Shayla one spell only:  
the joke they'd used on Yuusuke. But that casting was also a  
spell of release: releasing energy to send Yuusuke leaping into  
the air, to shape the energy of the air itself into twelve stars  
whirling round Yuusuke's head.

The spell had left her exhausted. Everything has its price.

So if the Serpent had stolen and encapsulated the boys' ki---her  
spell had to work on him.

A deadly gamble, but her one choice. With it, the baby might  
die. Without it, they all would.

White Sands Serpent had just used her to power up, but she could  
return the favor.

Genkai's teachings were steady in her mind, solid and reliable  
like the tree at her back, and she could visualize the diminutive  
reiki master, scowling at her, barking instruction: "Control  
your breathing, girl! See the spell in your mind before you go  
blasting it out!"

Clumsy for once in her life, shaking in the knees, Shayla Kidd  
began the soft chanting of the spell that would release the  
captive ki of Team Urameshi.

The Serpent's hearing was keen. He snapped up his head, turned  
to glare at her. Good, she thought, he doesn't like this.

A Rose Petal conjured by Kurama landed a blow against the  
Serpent's cheek. Spurting ichor sent the Petal into smoking  
oblivion.

"Impudent fox," began the Serpent.

"I seem to have scored a hit," gasped Kurama, then sank to one  
knee.

Kuwabara's Spirit Sword was a mere flicker, and sweat poured off  
him in waves, but he was bellowing defiance. "Stand still, you  
hair-hoppin' creep!"

"Hey, White-Eyes, smile for the camera!" Bleeding from a head  
wound, Yuusuke was braced as if the next breath would knock him  
off his feet. His gun hand trembling, he looked as though his  
famed luck had run out.

Hiei fought in grim silence, a defensive pattern now, meant to  
shield her, darting away from the smashing snakes, darting back,  
sword up, dancing.

The encapsulated golden aura was her target. It was held in  
place by means of The Serpent's will. Break his will and---

Now or never. She examined the spell Genkai had taught her, saw  
the white words float on a black background. Holding them steady  
in her thoughts, she raised her voice, calling out each word,  
sending them one by one into the air, careful of the proper  
order, summoning every ounce of stagecraft at her command.

Stars and cruel angels, whirling bloody swords.

White Sands Serpent sensed it. "I know what you're doing," he  
warned her, his voice thick with promises of pain to come. He  
left off his concertrated attacks of the others, simply using the  
snakes to casually flick the exhausted boys away from him.  
Sprawled on the grass, each boy struggled while The Serpent  
pinned her with his icy gaze. "Is this how you managed to get  
the boys to crawl to you in high school?" he jeered. "Do you  
imagine it will work on me?"

She spared not an atom of energy to reply, nor did she flinch  
when the snake-hairs whipped up, over Hiei's head. Hiei made a  
leap to intercept them, failed. The snakes flew straight toward  
her.

The clearing was foul with the odor of snake---musk, urine,  
vomit. Twelve stars, she thought, three for each boy. Break the  
capsule. Break his will. Crush his head under your heel.

She gathered her own shredded ki, begged, borrowed, stole  
whatever she could from the tree and the grass and the other  
living things in the forest, held steady, deliberately keeping  
back the force of the spell, letting it build and build in her  
until it lifted her hairs and became a burning coal in her heart.

She opened her mouth wide for the sending. The air crackled  
blue around her. She thrust out her hands, snapped out the spell  
prefix, the code that would release it with her final command:  
"Ichi-Ni-San-Yon-Go-Roku!"

And added her own twist, her own silent command: Thy will be  
done. In a throat-ripping shout, she unleashed the spell:  
"SAAAAAA!"

The force slammed her back into the tree, knocking the breath  
from her; she fought to remain conscious, fought to keep her eyes  
open.

The aura capsule burst open into a whirl of gold. Twelve stars  
emerged, danced for a moment, then descended. Three for each  
boy, pouring back their stolen ki.

Renewed, their battle auras blazed like fresh-minted suns; The  
Serpent hissed in frustration as Hiei turned to fling her a  
fierce grin and went to work with flashing sword.

Yuusuke, Kurama, and Kuwabara also closed in on The Serpent, who  
spun, not laughing now, but panting, eyes wide with fear, trying  
to keep them all in his line of sight: the raven-haired Yuusuke,  
tumbling midair to take aim in a two-handed shooting stance;  
Kazu-kun's powerful frame extending, sword arm cocked back, one  
arm flung out for balance; the graceful kitsune in a whirl of  
scarlet hair and slashing thorns; her fire demon, leaping  
straight up with the blade singing in his hand.

She could not move a muscle. Pain tugged at her midsection.  
Don't waste the spell, she prayed silently, Get him.

Kurama landed a Rose Whip Lash simultaneous with Kuwabara's  
Spirit Sword thrust; together they ravaged both the Serpent's  
arms. Yellow ichor sprayed the ground to the Serpent's long wail  
of pain. From behind, Yuusuke hurled a fiery ball of spirit  
power at the enemy's back.

And above it all leapt Hiei, his katana a glare of light,  
flinging himself down upon White Sands Serpent like an avenging  
angel.

The last thing Shayla Kidd saw was Hiei's arial attack, and a  
brilliant flash of white that slowly faded into a long black  
corridor with no sound but the rasping red hiss of her lungs.

-30-

(To be continued: Who will live and who will die?)


	26. IB C 26: The Darkness Flame

Title: Idiot Beloved Ch. 26: The Darkness Flame  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor, and Beyond  
Rating: T

Please read Disclaimer in Chap. 1!

Summary: In every war, there are losses. More than one will die  
today.

Author's Note: Was it mere coincidence that the day I set out to  
polish this chapter, I stumbled upon a set of pencils in black,  
white and red? Thanks to everyone reading and especially those who are kind enough to review. And my special thanks to Hawk-sensei for his invaluable comments.

LJ tagline: A surprising resurrection!

Idiot Beloved Ch 26: The Darkness Flame  
by  
Kenshin

I was dreaming: Yume wo.

Shayla Kidd dreamed of Hiei.

In the highest pinnacle of an impossibly tall pine tree, her dark  
knight stood beautiful and alone, head tipped back, the wind  
spreading his mantle like a banner. Then a tensing of muscle and  
sinew, and a leaping straight up into the silver salt of the  
stars.

Leaving the human world. Leaving her behind.

Traveling to a place where the sky is red and flickering with  
demonic fires. Hiei falling, down, down, wrapped in white cords  
that dripped poison.

She stirred in her sleep. The scent of blackberries and  
evergreens.

Hiei.

Standing inside a house with long low windows that overlooked a  
plain of glittering red.

0-0-0-0-0

Black carpeting lined the floor of the corridor, and many doors  
lined its walls. In between those doors, tubular lamps of icy  
white were mounted vertically on the red walls, casting small  
weak pools of light that looked a pinkish color quite outlandish  
in such a somber venue.

The light threw into relief two combatants, just arrived from the  
human world. The only sound was of labored breathing as White  
Sands Serpent and Hiei faced off.

Of the pair, it was apparent that White Sands Serpent had taken  
less damage; arms folded against the black of his suit, he  
appeared as though he had done nothing more strenuous than a two-  
mile jog through Youyogi Koen---though the observant eye might  
have noted that he was leaning against the red wall, perhaps less  
a stance of nonchalance than weary necessity.

Hiei, on the other hand, was gasping, bruised in a dozen places,  
and bleeding from countless puncture wounds, each bearing the u-  
shaped stamp of a non-venomous snakebite.

The Serpent regarded the fire demon with a cool and amused  
glance. "Still here? My, how tedious. It would have been wiser  
for you to let go when your far more courageous companions drove  
me back down to my realm."

Hiei shrugged. "Yet here I am, still on your tail."

"However did you manage?" The Serpent unfolded his arms. Bracing  
one palm on the wall, he straightened himself, then stood at the  
ready, arms tensed at his sides. "I presume you bit down and  
held on like the rat that you are."

"How I managed is none of your concern," Hiei replied. "I  
presume that how you will face your own death is."

"Dear, dear." The Serpent stifled an elaborate yawn. "Aren't we  
the brave little rodent. But even you should know that snakes  
eat rodents."

"Not this snake." Hiei jerked his head up at The Serpent, a  
gesture tinged with disrespect. "This snake consumes the life  
force of helpless women. You're empty. Gorging on soul-energy,  
guzzling the torment of the living, and none of that can fill you  
up." Hiei reached behind him and snicked the katana loose from  
its saya, readying his weapon without drawing it. "And you  
should understand that your life has run its course. You bleed.  
That's all I have to know."

"So do you, little demon. So do you." The Serpent slid his feet  
apart in a stance that spoke of preparation. "We're just alike,  
you and I."

"Black, red, white." Hiei spoke as if enumerating a laundry  
list. "Same colors, that's all."

"And underneath as well." Narrowing his eyes, The Serpent took a  
single step toward Hiei.

Who laughed. "I'm giving serious thought to being insulted,"  
said Hiei.

White Sands Serpent took another step forward. "Oh? And just  
exactly what is insulting about the truth? We are both creatures  
of Makai. Both use any means to get what we want. Of course,  
you can't compare to me---"

"That's correct," said Hiei. "You serve death. I serve life."

"Please." The Serpent steepled his hands in pious mockery.  
"Cease your tedious, holier-than-thou prattle and get on with the  
business of dying." He locked gazes with Hiei, stalking closer  
to the fire demon.

"You have something of mine," Hiei said, his posture ramrod-  
straight despite the wounds, perhaps a gesture of defiance,  
perhaps an influx of energy from an unknown source.

"You consider that one to be yours as well? Isn't one woman  
enough for you?"

"That girl you're holding is important to my---is important.  
I've come for her."

The Serpent ceased his forward movement. "Want a crack at her,  
too? Everyone else has."

Hiei did not dignify the taunt with a response, but took a step  
forward himself.

The Serpent raised his hand like a traffic cop, gave Hiei a paper  
cut of a smile. "And if I don't care to give her to you?"

"What you care or don't care is of no importance. I'm bringing  
her out of this cesspit to breathe fresh air."

"I don't imagine you can." The Serpent lowered his hand, fist  
clenched, then opened the fist with a magician's flourish. "You  
see, I am at home here. We are in Makai now---my power has  
increased tenfold, whereas yours..." A rueful shrug. "Well.  
Look at you. All over wounds, panting like a dog in the desert.  
And now that you have given yourself over to Ningenkai, your  
strength has dropped. Plummeted, I'd say. Your weakness is  
showing."

"Perhaps." Hiei bared his teeth in an echo of the Serpent's  
grin. "But in this fight, I have none that matter."

"I beg to disagree, little demon. You have weakness in  
abundance. Seeing yourself as a protector; that's not the real  
you. The real you is a thief and an assassin. I might even have  
use for one such as you."

"Is that supposed to tempt me? It's been tried before."

"Oh, I know the Gate of Betrayal tale, little demon. I know far  
more about you than you can imagine. Things that would shock  
your so-called friends. Things that would shock even you."

Hiei gave a snort. "They haven't minted the money."

"There is other coin. Or is your intellect truly as limited as  
you've displayed thus far? That ningen female you rutted with,  
for example. Whether you like it or not, she will join the other  
one here, and you cannot stop me."

"Already have." Hiei's voice dripped polite venom. "She's  
there, you're here."

"Yet she's turned away from you. Pity."

Hiei made no reply, but bent at the knees, one foot sliding  
forward, sword arm cocked back, a ball of kinetic energy primed  
to explode.

"And that little ice apparition you follow around and attempt to  
protect," continued The Serpent. "How very noble of you to watch  
over Yukina from afar. How human. I begin to wonder whether I  
could feed off her as well. And even if I couldn't, it might be  
amusing to keep her here. As a sort of pet, you know. The toad-  
men have their uses, but aren't all that cuddly when you get  
right down to it."

"Do you know what is the true weakness?" Hiei gripped the  
katana's handle; muscle rippled all the way up to his shoulder.  
"Mistaking weakness for strength."

"Strength?" The Serpent cast Hiei a withering glance. "You  
really should take that act of yours on the road. Recall that  
you cannot use your Jagan against me. I have learned of your  
speed attacks and they are now useless. Your fire I swallow  
whole."

"No matter." At last, Hiei drew his katana, holding it at the  
ready. "I will defeat you with my sword only."

"Oh?" One eyebrow lifted; The Serpent snapped his fingers. Many  
doors in the long red corridor flew open. Each door emitted a  
husky, shambling creature, human in shape and dress, but their  
heads were those of garden-variety toads and the inevitability of  
their soft sticky strength.

The toad-men, a dozen in number, rushed up to flank the Serpent,  
making a formidable army. "Your sword only? Here in Makai?"  
White Sands Serpent chuckled. "You are one pitiful little demon  
alone---surrounded by my allies."

"I have allies." A genuine smile glanced across Hiei's lips.  
"You, on the other hand, have nothing but minions. And I am not  
alone. I fight with the help of all the angels and all the  
saints."

The Serpent rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm terrified!" The cultured,  
sibilant voice of the Serpent was rich with mockery. "Truly I  
am. Down here, those you mentioned are equally useless as  
yourself."

"Can't even speak the names, can you?" Hiei did not appear to  
have lifted a finger, stood crouched as before, sword up. But  
the toad-men collapsed in bloody hunks. The black carpet  
swallowed any noise they made in falling.

"So you kept some of your speed in reserve." The Serpent flicked  
a contemptuous glance at the bodies. "What a shame, and with  
good help so hard to come by these days. But I don't need them  
to defeat you."

"You'll need a lot more help than some stupid frog-heads."

"Poor thing---is your unpleasant nature the result of being a  
cast-off?" The Serpent gave a mournful shake of his head. "So  
sad when a thing like that happens. An unwanted child. Too bad  
about the Kourime ditching you. The result of an accident, were  
you? An unforeseen consequence of a moment's passion, tossed  
overboard like yesterday's garbage?"

"Say what you like." Hiei lowered the sword a notch. "Doesn't  
change reality."

"Half-breeds can be so difficult," mused White Sands Serpent,  
tracking the tip of the sword. "What to do with you? You don't  
fit in one world, and you don't fit in the other. There really  
isn't a place for you anywhere, is there? Except perhaps here.  
I really am far too generous for my own good; after all you just  
cost me a number of somewhat decent minions. I'll consider  
offering you a position as their replacement. Of course the  
hours are long and the pay meager, but I expect you're used to  
that sort of thing."

"Do you know what I think?" said Hiei. "I think your powers are  
drying up. That's why you had to feed on women."

"You won't find her." Using the tip of a highly-polished shoe,  
White Sands Serpent rolled over one piece of one dead toad-man.  
"The girl you came for. She isn't alive."

"She's alive." Hiei raised his head, like a gaze hound seeking  
prey. "I can sense where she is."

The Serpent crashed a fist into the wall, the first chink in his  
composure. "This stronghold is still under my authority!"

"I answer to a higher authority." A lightning movement of Hiei's  
hand to his boot, and for a split-second, he gripped a  
knife---the same knife he had used to cauterize Shay-san's wound  
in Arizona.

And then the knife flew from Hie's hand, burying itself to the  
hilt in The Serpent's belly. He gasped, eyes wide, groping for  
the ichor-spurting wound.

With a blurring of air, Hiei no longer stood in front of the  
Serpent. Flicking past his wounded enemy and down the corridor,  
Hiei burst through one of the many doors. Inside, he stopped.

This room, too, was in black: black walls, black carpeting, black  
furniture. Any sane person would be repelled by so much  
darkness, but the room had been designed to showcase the  
unearthly pallor of its lord and master.

Blood-colored light filtered in from the long bank of windows  
opposite the door. Meager illumination when compared to the  
cheerful sun of the human world, but bright enough to pick out  
the planes of floor, walls, and furnishings. Four black leather  
armchairs faced one another in a sort of conversation pit, a  
conventional arrangement that would have seemed a bit mundane  
elsewhere. Here, it had the look of a trap.

In the far corner of that room, close by the bank of windows, a  
miko cowered as if expecting a blow. Tall, striking. Long  
chestnut hair. A face that would have been beautiful in its  
youth, now old, haggard, spent. A face that still had the look  
of a woman dreaming.

And as she turned her face toward the intruder, she stopped  
cowering, straightened, then tottered diagonally toward Hiei.

"You---you're not one of his." She spoke English, extending a  
shaking, age-spotted hand toward Hiei. "He said no one would  
come for me."

In a flash, Hiei was steadying her. "Surprise. He lied."

"I know you!" The miko's hooded eyes opened wide. "Shayla's  
demon!" A soft snort was the only sound Hiei made in reply. The  
miko added, "She did say you could take a punch."

"Americans. Nothing shocks you." One arm supporting the fallen  
beauty, Hiei moved toward the door. But something surged out  
from behind one of the black leather chairs. Lurching to its  
feet, it dragged itself forward to block their path.

A person faint of heart might have screamed at the appearance of  
such a creature. The clothes were in rags. One eye was swollen  
shut, purpled with bruises beneath a split and bloodied eyebrow.  
The nose was flattened to one side; tracks of blood still marked  
the injury and mingled with the dried blood that turned the  
cracked lips a maroon color. One shoulder was hunched at a high,  
unnatural angle, as though some mad scientist had taken the  
creature apart and put it back together wrong. Taller than Hiei  
by a head, it took another step, gasping like a bellows, and,  
astonishingly, spoke: "Stop, please."

But Hiei was not faint of heart, and this was no apparition.

"John," breathed the miko. "I thought you were---"

"Think again." John drew himself up. "It's good to see you,  
miko."

"You're human," said Hiei. "Yet you work for that one?"

"Not any more." John gave a fierce grin that cracked dried blood  
off his lips and started the wounds flowing anew. "Doesn't  
matter why I worked for him or how long. This girl." He tilted  
his battered head toward the miko. "He couldn't break her. He  
couldn't break her. With all his wiles and all his power, he  
couldn't break her. He tore things from her mind, dreadful  
things, but he couldn't break her. A girl like this is worth  
dying for."

Hiei inclined his head in a gesture that was almost a bow of  
respect. "I understand."

"John, no!" Pleading with him, the miko struggled to reach the  
man, but Hiei held on to her.

"We're out of time," John said, cranking his head around to look  
at the miko as if the sight of her sustained him, indeed, made it  
possible even to stand upright. There was regret in the ruined  
voice, but he turned once again to Hiei. "As you might have  
already discovered, your fire's useless against him, but if you  
can blow out one of these windows, you can reach the nearest  
break in the barrier between worlds." John had to pause to catch  
his breath.

"Nearest break?" inquired Hiei. "Why not go out the way we came  
in?"

John coughed, then regained control of himself. "It's different  
from that hole---The Serpent's passages seal themselves up again  
immediately."

"Self-sealing," grunted Hiei. "I might have known."

"This passage," John continued, "is one of those naturally-  
occuring rifts, and it's supposed to connect to Spirit World. Or  
so they say. You'll see it---down the cliff and about a quarter-  
mile straight ahead, in among the first stand of trees." He  
looked again at the miko. "Can you get her out of here?"

"Yes," said Hiei. "It's what I came for."

John shut his eyes a moment. "Then do it."

"John, please!" The miko flung her hands out in a gesture of  
supplication, but John staggered away from her, swaying like a  
bridge in a high wind.

He made a grab for the back of a chair, missed, just managed to  
remain on his feet. Hiei put a hand to John's elbow. "It's  
okay," John told him. "I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" said Hiei. "I may be able to get the both of you  
out of---"

"We have company," John rasped.

The door burst open. Hiei whirled to face it.

White Sands Serpent stood in the doorway, lips drawn back. He  
addressed the human. "You again? Can't stay dead?"

"Sorry to disappoint you," said John, though his voice shook.

Bristling about The Serpent's head were the snakes, their tongues  
flickering as they sought prey. They flew forward, reaching for  
Hiei, pink maws opened wide.

A black blur, and Hiei twisted in mid-air, landing away from the  
miko. "I'm your target," he spat. "Not some defenseless female,  
not some barely-breathing human male."

The snakes retreated, writhing on the floor, gathering about  
their master, preparing another assault.

"Fool of a demon." White Sands Serpent clucked his tongue.

Hiei tracked the movement of the gathering snakes, flicking his  
glance from the two vulnerable humans to the enemy and back  
again. His leap had separated him from John and the girl, who  
huddled together near the chair; Hiei was now close to the  
windows.

"There isn't much time!" John warned.

"And look who's come to the rescue," mocked The Serpent. "No  
angel nor saint, but merely another minion. Apparently you're  
less fragile than I thought. I ought not to have held back when  
I taught you your much-needed lesson."

"Bastard," growled Hiei.

The white, snake-slit eyes turned onto Hiei. "Come, now---for a  
creature with as much combat experience as yourself---should you  
not have realized I was keeping something in reserve for you as  
well?"

The miko exchanged a frightened glance with John, but Hiei gave  
White Sands Serpent a sidelong grin. "Good. I was hoping for a  
decent fight from you. So far all you've shown is a smart mouth  
and stupid hair."

"Deal with this, then." The Serpent raised one arm. The snakes  
gathered around him, hissing, mouths open and dripping, turning  
this way and that in a constant mass of scaly motion. Flinging a  
bare-toothed, primordial snarl of triumph at Hiei, The Serpent's  
voice rang clear:

"Cobra Heads of the Darkness Eye!"

The snakes stilled then, standing quietly at attention, like  
white stalks of asparagus. From the upraised hand of The Serpent  
emanated a humming, blue-violet glow that swelled to encompass  
the waiting snakes. When the glow had touched each snake, their  
heads changed in form, shrinking from the blunt wedge shape of a  
nonvenomous constrictor, to the sleek white bullet-head of the  
deadly cobra.

The miko cried out. With a finger to her lips John hushed her,  
tracking the metamorphosis.

And then came a sight that man has feared since the dawn of  
creation: as the snakes stood at attention, their aspect changed  
yet again, the ribs just behind their heads spreading, forming  
the familiar cobra's hood, so that on the back of each hood,  
marked out in black and red, was seen the Eye of the Snake:  
lidless, vengeful and cold.

The new-forged cobras slithered into restless motion, flicking  
their white tongues in search of prey, ranging around the room.  
They crawled close to the black chairs where the two humans stood  
clutching one another, and pointed their heads toward John.

John cringed.

"No!" The miko lunged forward, putting herself between John and  
the snakes. "Not again. I won't let you hurt him again!"

Hiei grabbed for the miko, but with an uncanny agility she  
twisted away, her arms in their white kimono spread in a gesture  
of protection like the wings of an angel.

The cobra-heads gathered and struck.

And with an agility greater than the miko's, born of desperation,  
or revenge, or possibly love, the bloodied husk named John got  
himself between her and the snakes, flinging out his own arms.

The cobras surged forward. They slammed into John's chest. The  
impact jerked his head back, lifted him off his feet. Then he  
crashed to the floor like a stone.

It was just an instant, but it was enough. Hiei whirled his  
katana, severing the venomous cobras into a million burning  
crystals. White Sands Serpent fell back with a snarl of  
frustration, clawing at his shorn head.

The miko fell to her knees beside the fallen man. "John," she  
sobbed. "John!"

"Come on," Hiei urged, pulling her away from the body and  
sheathing his sword in the same movement. "That man knew what he  
was doing. Don't let his sacrifice be in vain."

"Behind you," whispered the miko.

But not even Hiei had time to turn.

Cobras of the Darkness Eye, reforming, boiling from the head of  
White Sands Serpent, exploding forward, wrapping around Hiei,  
biting, spitting, ten, twenty, attacking all at once, burying the  
fire demon under their cold, venomous weight, until there was  
nothing in the room but cobras, an old miko, and White Sands  
Serpent.

Inside the room, it began to snow.

-30-

(To be continued: Ask not for whom the bells toll.)


	27. IB C 27: For Whom The Bells Toll

Title: Idiot Beloved Ch. 27: For Whom The Bells Toll  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor, and Beyond  
Rating: T

Please read Disclaimer in Chap. 1!

Summary: "Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in  
mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell  
tolls; it tolls for the..."

--John Donne, Meditation 17

A/N: As always, thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing this. I know there's a lot of fanfic out there to choose from, so I'm grateful you chose this one.

Idiot Beloved Ch 27: For Whom The Bells Toll  
by  
Kenshin

"He hath loos'd the fateful lightning of His terrible swift

sword." --- Julia Ward Howe, 1861, Battle Hymn of the Republic

Light seared her eyes. A persistent roaring in her ears made it  
difficult to hear. Shayla Kidd took a breath and was rewarded  
with stabbing pains throughout her whole body.

Am I still at the temple? she wondered.

The smells were different, nothing of woods and loam, but of  
metal and disinfectant, the babble of sounds not rustling leaves,  
but voices. She reached out, groping for something concrete to  
ground the dizzying sensations. Her hand touched a metal rail.

The kind they use on hospital beds, she thought.

Though her vision blurred and wavered, she could just discern the  
figures crowding around her.

"We must keep her quiet," said a cultured, almost-English voice:  
a man near her bed, needle in hand poised to jab.

Shayla Kidd turned her face from the needle; she had  
seen the other people surrounding the doctor: the tall, orange-  
haired one, his height and breadth almost hiding the sleek one  
with long red hair, and in front, the dark, compact one with the  
Yakuza haircut and blazing brown eyes.

Why were they all staring at her?

"Yuusuke." Her words were a frail puff of air. "Serpent---did  
you get him?"

"We got him all right," said Yuusuke. "Nothin' left to see."

She gave him a thin smile. The room and everything in it kept  
going in and out of focus. Her ribs were a Catherine Wheel of  
pain.

"Hiei?" she whispered. "Did you find out where Ronni is?"

No answer.

She tried to rise, hearing the hiss of sheets, the ping of a  
bedside monitor.

But not Hiei's voice. Her eyes closed themselves again. "Hiei?"

"Your ribs are broken," said the doctor. "Four of them. You  
also sustained a mild concussion; that's why you're having  
trouble seeing. You must lie still."

"Hiei." She wanted to hear him say: Shut up, stupid woman, and  
do what the doctor says.

But there was only ringing in her ears.

Like Ningenkai, Makai is a world of contrasts.

The Demon Plane contains towns, cities, fortresses. It has lakes  
and streams alike, fields and forests. It even contains floating  
realms of ice, and wide, tree-lined palisades which call to mind  
fairy-tale castles.

Here, however, in this particular patch of unhallowed ground, the  
terrain closely resembles a crimson-tinted version of White  
Sands, New Mexico.

Baking hot by day, at night this small sector can freeze blood  
and marrow both. A long low house perched upon an ever-shifting  
hill overlooks a vast plain of parched ground where furtive  
creatures---made red in color by natural selection---eke out an  
existence every bit as meager as do those in White Sands.

But there is one crucial element common to Ningenkai lacking in  
Makai.

The Demon Plane lacks humankind.

Even the lower order of demon, the small, knotty jaki who live at  
the top of the food chain here, will leave the safety of their  
cliffside lairs to gawk at a human when two strangers cross their  
path.

The little human-figured demons known as jaki, depending upon  
their native habitat, occupy differing links on the food chain.  
Some are food for other, larger demons, some prey upon smaller  
creatures, and still others---bred for brains---grace the palaces  
of Makai dressed as pages or jesters.

Their character varies as well. Some are outright wicked. Some,  
pawns pressed into service by more powerful forces. And some  
merely wish to live in peace, as do the pair which now tracks the  
progress of the strangers.

Two reddish jaki, one male and one female, crouch on the cliff  
behind a meager excuse for a rock, silently watching two  
creatures considerably higher on the food chain.

About eight inches in height, this pair is tailless, but the male  
possesses two stubby horns growing just over his pointed ears,  
and the keen eyesight needed for his harsh environment.

The two strangers who are the objects of jaki scrutiny descend  
the cliff. It is obvious from the slow, painful way they move  
that both have taken severe damage. They are headed toward the  
first stand of trees about a quarter-mile distant, where the end  
of The Serpent's territory is marked by a rich variety of plants  
and animals springing to life.

The smaller traveler is a fire demon, dismissed by the two jaki  
despite his fearsome reputation: an adept at combat, but now  
marked by many wounds both plain and poisoned.

The taller one is more ordinary, possessed of no special powers,  
but by the very fact of her species, a rarity, possibly  
dangerous.

The two jaki huddle close. The male slips an arm over the  
female's shoulders.

The fire demon, however, has brought to Makai a thing which has  
never before manifested on this plane.

This object---a weapon of unsurpassed power---remains hidden for  
now.

There is sudden, furtive movement at the feet of the two jaki.  
The male glaces down. A large red beetle has made the fatal  
mistake of crawling out from under their hiding-rock. He  
snatches it up, and the two jaki momentarily forget the strangers  
to dine on the beetle, happily squabbling over the choicest bits.

Had the jaki known of the weapon borne by the fire demon, they  
would have dropped their meal and fled for their lives.

0-0-0-0-0

With her throat parched as though she had just crawled over miles  
of red desert sand, Shayla Kidd tried to speak.

"Hiei. Where's Hiei?"

No one answered. There was the rustle of hospital sheets as she  
willed her limbs to respond. Just let me sit up, she thought,  
please. "Hiei?"

This time, she heard Yuusuke's nervous cough. The sound put her  
in a state of alert.

"Hiei!" She struggled to push herself upright. Someone she  
could not see placed a restraining hand on her shoulder and held  
her down. "Hiei! Where is he?"

Yuusuke was saying something. One of the words he pronounced  
sounded like, "Gone."

The restraining hand stayed on her shoulder. She brushed it  
away. The pain in her ribs splintered her, dropped her back on  
the bed. "I need to see Hiei." But she was having trouble  
seeing anything at all; the room swam and darkened.

Yuusuke was mumbling something, his voice ragged. Was he  
weeping? Why would Yuusuke weep?

Kurama. Why was Kurama silent?

"Niichan," she gasped, reaching out to the vague bulky shape that  
was Kuwabara. "Where's Hiei?"

"Here," gulped Yuusuke, pressing something into her hands. She  
clutched it, and by the feel of its silken weight and its scent  
of evergreen and blackberry, knew it was Hiei's mantle.

She gave a strangled cry.

"Neesan!" Kuwabara's distinctive voice, loud in her ear: "We  
never found a body."

"Body?" She blinked in the direction of his voice. Her vision  
cleared for a moment. Kuwabara's face hovered close to hers, his  
eyes narrowed. "Hiei's strong," he growled. "Remember that."  
Then his features rose away from her field of vision, and she  
felt Kurama's cool slim fingers circling her wrist, saw the blur  
of his alabaster face framed by long red hair. "You're not  
alone," he whispered, the husky contralto voice shaking.

But she was alone. More alone than she had been since the  
morning two strangers arrived at her door, their faces creased  
with sorrow, bearing the news that she was now an orphan.

Widows and orphans.

With another cry, she shook loose of Kurama's hand and swung her  
right leg over the bedrail.

Voices raised, urging her to stay down. Hands holding her  
steady.

Hiei! she shouted, struggling against the hands, but the words  
never reached her lips. You stupid demon bastard! What happened  
to your promise? What you said to me at the ranch? 'Till death,  
and beyond?' You promised!

Then the needle's sting, and darkness.

0-0-0-0-0

Yume wo: I was dreaming.

Shayla Kidd dreamed she was reading a letter.

And as she read, the words dissolved into people, places, things,  
a clear view of all that went on before her horrified eyes.

0-0-0-0-0

The red skies of Makai looked upon two figures now about half-way  
down the shifting, red-tinted cliff.

And having finished their meal of red beetle, the male and female  
jaki resumed watching the strangers.

"See that spot there?" Gasping for breath, Hiei paused, pointed  
at the nearest stand of trees.

Unable to speak, the miko nodded.

About a quarter-mile distant from the base of the cliff lay a  
shimmering area just slightly larger in size and shape than a  
tall human. It resembled a heat-mirage, stuck between two of the  
trees.

"The break in the barrier between Makai and Spirit World," Hiei  
continued. "Once we reach it you'll be safe."

The miko could barely support herself; Hiei was still half-  
pulling her along for all that he was scored with wounds. He  
looked as though someone had tossed him into a wood-chipper, then  
added a vat of lye for good measure.

The strangers labored in relative silence to the bottom of the  
cliff, then set out across the desolation between cliff base and  
trees. Moving step by painful step, they made it about a fourth  
of the way to safety, then paused for breath in the lung-searing  
heat.

The red sands beneath their feet shifted, as if stirred by a  
breeze. But there was no wind.

Hiei put a hand out to bar the miko's way, then reached back for  
the hilt of his katana.

An ominous rumble made the female jaki whine and shiver.

With a little hissing ripple, the sands emitted first one white  
stalk, then another, then what looked to be a seething cauldron  
of pale vegetation.

The white stalks shot upward from the ground like impossibly  
fast-growing fingers of cactus, towering over the fire demon.  
But these were not plants, and the sands were still shifting.

"How...?" said Hiei, then snapped his mouth shut.

The snakes had returned.

Rising with no more effort than a passenger on an escalator,  
White Sands Serpent followed the barricade of snakes.

Red eyes met white. Lightning clawed the sky.

Looking as though he had just stepped from the tailor's  
storefront, The Serpent regarded them both with a cool and  
insolent amusement, beneath which could be detected a glitter of  
venom.

The miko fell to her knees again. Taking a step forward, Hiei  
blocked off The Serpent's access to her.

Black, white, red. Two creatures faced one another in the arena  
of their final combat.

White Sands Serpent smiled. "And just where do you think you're  
going?"

"Home," replied Hiei.

"I see. Sick of my hospitality already? Come now. Did you  
really think it would be so easy to escape?"

Hiei did not waste a single rasping breath to reply.

"Well." The Serpent folded his arms, sighing. "I suppose I can  
let you haul the trash away." He tilted his head at the old  
miko. "After all, I've got a bead on a fresh new source of  
energy. But really, little demon. You owe me for a number of  
perfectly decent servants, and I want something in return."

"Stand aside." The fire demon's chest rose and fell.

"I don't see why I should. Playtime has hardly begun, you see."

"And you have begun to irritate me." Crouching, Hiei reached  
back for his katana, but his movements were slow, painful, as if  
he had rusted at the joints.

"Poor, sad, unwanted little fire demon," crooned White Sands  
Serpent. "I know something you don't know."

"What?" With a ringing snap, Hiei drew his sword and assumed an  
attack stance.

"Did you truly believe you could hide the existence of your  
little bastard from me?"

Still on her knees, the old miko gasped.

Hiei tensed, but kept his sword point-up, muscles coiled to  
strike. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"That offspring of yours." The Serpent covered his mouth with  
one white hand, but it did not muffle his laughter. "The one who  
started life just like you---the one that resulted from an  
unplanned moment of passion. The child whose existence you tried  
so touchingly, so desperately to keep secret."

The tip of Hiei's sword dipped for an instant, then snapped back  
up. "What child? What about it?"

The red sky throbbed. Whirls of pure sulphur caused the miko to  
gag.

"What child?" The Serpent took his hand from his mouth, still  
laughing. "As if you didn't know! Oh, you had the most  
wonderful expression of shock on your face just now. And the  
fact that you thought you could hide it from me, but failed,  
amuses me no end."

Hiei bared his teeth.

"That little half-breed you managed to sire on your human  
female---did you honestly think your feeble attempt to swear your  
cohort to secrecy would work?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Hiei's eyes held the  
promise of a slow, painful death.

"I felt its presence, its life force, whatever you wish to call  
it, when I tried to bring that little slag heap of yours with  
me."

Without warning, Hiei sprang at the Serpent, but White Sands  
Serpent spread his arms. "Fire at the Core of Ice!" he cried;  
from the white snakes poured a cold, ravening wind. The Serpent  
sent a single snake to knock Hiei tumbling backward.

The fire demon scrabbled to his feet, again putting himself  
between the miko and the Serpent. "You're lying," Hiei said.

"I am wounded, really I am. You display a shocking lack of  
concern for my well-being. The child made a decent appetizer,  
and then I dined deeply of its mother, but I am still not full."  
He pursed his lips. "Oh. Didn't she realize she was carrying?"

Hiei's katana dipped.

Halfway up the cliff, in spite of the baking heat, the female  
jaki began to shake uncontrollably; the male eased himself  
protectively in front of her.

White Sands Serpent raised an eyebrow. "She seemed a bit  
surprised, that one, to realize she had---and note my use of the  
past tense---had a child within her. Is she forgetful, or  
faithless? Which is it, hmmm?"

Shivering now too, Hiei steadied himself with a hand to one knee.

"I must say the little creature made a tasty morsel. Though not  
much of a life force when they're that young, that helpless.  
Sort of an unusual h'ors d'oevres---but I'm still hungry for the  
main course."

"What are you talking about?" Hiei shifted, took a two-handed  
grip on his sword now.

"You sound worried," laughed The Serpent. "Are you worried?  
Well, you needn't worry any longer. But you seem so slow on the  
uptake that I suppose I must spell it out for you. For all that  
its worthless mother tried to save it---I took it."

"Took what?"

"Your little half-breed bastard. It is no more."

The miko gave a wordless cry.

The red sky flickered with uneasy lightnings. And, with the look  
of someone who no longer has the strength to hold himself  
upright, Hiei slid to the ground. The sword fell from his  
fingers, landing with a dull thump on the red sand. "No," he  
whispered.

"There, there." The Serpent spoke in soothing tones. "It will  
be all right. After all, you are unharmed, or relatively so.  
And that's all you care about in the end, isn't it?"

Hiei remained on his knees, his sword useless.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" The Serpent gave a  
clucking sound of gentle regret. "And to think your bastard  
carried its mommy's energy-signature. I am certain another such  
half-breed could be produced. And you know, this gives me an  
idea. I might keep the two of you as a breeding pair. Sort of  
like raising my own chickens. What do you think, hmmm?"

The Serpent flicked out another snake-hair, knocking the miko  
flat. Hiei did not lift his head.

"Do you begin to see now?" the Serpent said. "I am far superior  
in strength and cunning, and I've fought enemies twice as  
dangerous as you since long before the sorry day you were born.  
You can't win. You were, in truth, doomed from the beginning.  
All your sacrifice is in vain."

But Hiei raised his head at last, and reached a shaking hand to  
his sword. His fingers curled around its hilt. Using the sword  
as a crutch, he lurched to his feet. His face held no expression  
as he turned to the miko. "Are you all right?"

Sprawled on the red sand where The Serpent had thrown her, she  
nodded.

Reaching into the neckline of his tattered shirt, Hiei withdrew a  
string of dark wooden beads crowned with the Crucifix.

"---A Rosary?" The Serpent sipped in a breath, took a backward  
step. "What---?"

Hiei laid the Rosary against his chest with fingers that still  
shook. A faint rumble sounded in the red skies.

The Serpent narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Sliding a hand into his pocket, Hiei withdrew a small bottle of  
water that blazed with white fires. The Rosary itself,  
responding to this new element, took on a silver glow.

The Serpent saw it; the snakes around his head opened their pink  
mouths and hissed.

"Put that thing away," warned The Serpent. "Such an object could  
destroy you as well."

Hiei nodded. "I know it."

"Listen to me." The Serpent spoke in rapid, urgent tones, one  
hand out in supplication.

"I'm listening."

"I understand you, better than you realize. Up until now, you've  
been white-knuckling it, gritting your teeth to do the right  
thing as the human world sees it. And all because of one little  
mistake on your part. That human female. I'm right, aren't I?  
You've been running on pure vapors. But you owe them nothing.  
Nothing! It was Koenma who sentenced you to service in the human  
plane. Now you're back where you belong. You're home. Home!"

Up on the cliff, the two jaki began edging away.

Hiei lowered the bottle of Holy Water.

"I don't know where you got that fool thing around your neck,"  
continued The Serpent, "but it's another mistake. It doesn't  
really suit you."

"Probably not," whispered Hiei.

"Slitting throats in the night is more your speed, and it's a  
genuine skill. It's said that ten thousand throats can be slit  
by one running man. There's use for that skill here."

Hiei stood, eyes closed, grasping the bottle. Light strained to  
escape from between his fingers.

"There's been more than enough fighting, don't you agree?"

"I do."

"Good." The Serpent gave a hissing sigh of relief. "And I mean  
it this time. Back then, it was just a---test---of sorts. I can  
use a demon with your talents. Not just as a runner in the  
night. You can name your price."

Hiei gave a little sound that might have been a groan.

"We have a deal then?" inquired The Serpent. "Now put that thing  
away. The time for fighting has ended."

"I agree," said Hiei.

The Serpent shut his eyes a moment.

From high above, a carrion-demon's harsh cry as it circled,  
waiting for food. The ground rumbled again. And Hiei answered  
with a rumble of his own, at first barely audible, then rising  
into a snarl of laughter.

"What's so funny?" The Serpent bared his own teeth.

Hiei did not reply at first. Head down, fists clenched, he  
blazed with a battle aura of such intensity that The Serpent took  
a step back.

"You're right," laughed Hiei. "The time for fighting has ended."

All around them, the air hummed like a tuning fork. The skies  
flickered with sulphuric lightnings that paled against the Holy  
Water.

Partway up the cliff, the two jaki turned and ran. Hand in hand  
at first, then separately on all fours, they made their desperate  
dash up the cliff face, sliding and scrambling, at last vanishing  
to safety at the summit.

Hiei shot another glance back at the miko. "Stay where you are,"  
he told her.

She pushed herself up on one arm. "Why?"

"Because when my attack hits, everything within a fifty-foot  
radius will be obliterated."

Alarm rang in the miko's cracked voice. "But that means you---"

"Be still now, miko." Hiei kept his eyes on White Sands Serpent.  
"Stay down. Cover your eyes and ears. Afterward---whatever  
happens, keep moving for that breach."

The miko gave a single, mute nod, then ducked.

And while she was still down, Hiei lifted the bottle of silvered  
water on high. Responding to its flash, his Rosary shone like a  
string of miniature suns.

"What do you think you're doing?" The Serpent put up one hand to  
shield himself from the blaze.

Flinging the bottle of Holy Water in the air, Hiei whirled his  
katana.

"No!" cried the Serpent. "Stop it!" He sent a snake-head flying  
out to intercept the bottle while it was still in mid-air, but  
the snake got within a few feet of the bottle and vanished in a  
flash of light.

Bottle spun. Katana spun. Gravity worked its magic, sent bottle  
down to meet blade, shattered the bottle, anointed the sword with  
Holy Water.

A gleam of sacred lightning straked the sword, tip to hilt,  
setting it ablaze, and the Rosary answered with a fire of its  
own, the light from both sources fanning out to combine with  
Hiei's battle aura.

Huddled on the ground, the miko screamed.

"Stop that!" The Serpent flung himself forward now, heedless of  
the snakes that burst into flame and vanished one by one. He  
sent one last snake flyng out---not at Hiei, but at the miko.

It wrapped around her before she could react, and The Serpent  
used it to draw the haggard, sobbing creature to him, to use as a  
shield against the one weapon he could not withstand. He turned  
his face toward Hiei, gave a ratcheting sound of triumphant glee.  
"Use your precious weapon now, you fool!"

High above, the carrion-demon wheeled away on its long leathery  
wings.

And for a moment, there were two of Hiei: one standing before  
White Sands Serpent, the other tearing the miko from the snake  
and flinging her to safety.

Then there was one Hiei, one purpose, one final chance to  
accomplish the inevitable, the impossible.

"We can still make a deal!" White Sands Serpent, bereft of his  
hostage, backpedaled frantically, sliding on the red sand, trying  
to escape, jabbering, "Stop, stop, stop!"

But Hiei had swiftness in reserve, or perhaps the sacred  
lightning had infused him with a speed of its own. He leapt into  
the air. White Sands Serpent tipped back his head, tracking the  
arc of the leap, flinging up both arms to ward off the blow of  
the sword.

"Sword of the Archangel!"

Crying out his attack, katana dripping fiery water, Hiei hurled  
himself at White Sands Serpent---

---and thrust his sword, not into the enemy, but straight into  
the ground.

The Serpent had time for one long shrill, wailing hiss of despair  
before the bone-shattering explosion of Holy Light claimed him.

A shockwave boomed beneath the sands of the Demon Plane, as power  
of a kind never before seen in Makai blazed its angelic  
destruction, flattening everything in its path.

0-0-0-0-0

Yume wo: I was dreaming.

"Wake up!"

Shayla Kidd's mouth felt like it was lined with sandpaper, her  
eyes lined with mucilage. She blinked, but the terrible light  
stabbed her eyes shut again.

A weight on the bed. Someone tapping her face. Go away, she  
thought. Let me dream. It's safe here.

In her dreams, Shayla Kidd could even smell her demon, the  
architect of her mirakuru romansu: evergreens waving in the night  
breeze, blackberries in sugar syrup. She could feel him beside  
her on the hospital bed. She knew it was only his mantle that  
she still clutched like a shield. But a new scent intruded, a  
stink of burning, of charred rag and ash. She whimpered, holding  
the mantle tighter still.

She knew the others came and went---the doctor, Yuusuke, Kurama,  
and the rest. She knew they tried to get her to talk.

"We'll see whether she's good for anything other than squirting  
out little hanyou," Genkai had said, way back when everything was  
still all right.

The little hanyou!

He is no more.

Sometimes she even heard Hiei's voice: "Onna! I'm here!" That  
saxophone of a voice, that heavy, dangerous purr.

"You promised," she whispered.

"Open your eyes!"

It was easier to breathe now. Some of the pain had receded.  
There seemed now to be no reason to live, but to wish for death  
was wrong. If she could just keep accomplishing the next breath.

"Beloved!"

The word sounded strange to her ears. Hiei made three syllables  
of it: "Be-lo-ved." The Japanese pronounce every vowel, except  
in cases of names like 'Yuusuke,' where the third 'u' is  
inexplicably silent. Shayla Kidd knew this much.

"The little hanyou---he lied about that, too."

Someone took her by the shoulders and pulled her up. The light  
still hurt her eyes; she kept them squeezed shut and dreamed that  
someone who smelled like Hiei was holding her, saying, "Did you  
hear me, onna? The little hanyou is all right."

0-0-0-0-0

Shayla Kidd awoke to the sound of murmuring. She recognized the  
breathy voice of Kurama. Yuusuke's buoyant snarl. Genkai's  
answering rasp. Kuwabara's rumble.

And another voice she had heard before, that doctor who kept  
poking her with needles. Smith, an American name, an American  
voice, crisp and dry. Or maybe British. Hard to tell. Been in  
Japan too long.

The scent of blackberries and evergreens was strong now. The  
scent of miracles.

"Woman," someone said tiredly. "WILL you open your eyes?"

She obeyed.

A pair of garnet eyes stared into her own. "Hiei?" She  
struggled to rise, unable to believe in what her own senses were  
telling her: Hiei, sitting crosslegged at the foot of the bed.

She blinked, and he was still there.

Braced against the metal footrail as if he would fall over  
otherwise, Hiei bore countless barely-healed slashes on both arms  
and shoulders, and the few patches of skin that were not ripped  
in some way were burned. He had a blackened left eye, a  
spreading bruise on the left side of his face, and his white  
shirt was half-charred, clinging to him in black-edged rags.

A creature of black, white, and red. Victor in the battle.

"I was dreaming," she whispered, her throat still raw. "I  
dreamed you found Ronni."

"I did." There was no mistaking that voice now. Or the dark,  
expressive brows, or the color of those eyes---

"Hiei?" She blinked. Her tongue darted out to lick parchment  
lips. "You're here? It's really you?"

Hiei nodded. "I've been sitting here three days, trying to get  
you to wake up."

Her heart gave an odd thump. "But Yuusuke said---! I thought  
you were---!"

Hiei struggled to lift himself from the footrail. She had never  
before seen him move as if he were filled with broken glass.

She widened her field of vision, saw, for the first time, that  
the room was filled with people matching the voices she'd heard:  
Kurama and Yuusuke, Genkai and Kuwa-chan. Dr. Smith. All  
gathered in a knot near the door, all looking at them, all in  
considerably better shape than Hiei.

From across the room, Kurama smiled at her. "Hiei used up the  
last scraps of his energy pulling that girl through the barrier  
and getting to this room. And then he passed out."

"I did not," muttered Hiei.

"And he wouldn't let any of us near him," Kurama added sourly.  
"Not even me. 'Hiei, I can heal some of these wounds,' I told  
him. Did he listen? Of course not."

"I was deaf," Hiei growled. "I couldn't listen."

"None of us could peel him off you either," said Yuusuke. "Not  
even the doctors."

"The little moron kept threatening to kill them," said Genkai.  
"It was all we could do to keep him out of jail."

"So who's the moron now?" Kuwabara was giggling like a  
schoogirl.

"You, Kuwabara Kazuma," sighed Hiei, "can only aspire to be a  
moron."

"Out," snapped the doctor, and Shayla saw him clearly for the  
first time: an older man, his blue eyes glittering with  
impatience, speaking English now, and brooking no nonsense. "All  
of you. This girl has sustained a number of broken ribs and a  
concussion."

"That was some spell, Neesan," added Kuwabara.

"Baby Spellcasters," snorted Genkai. "Always screaming."

"Always going overboard." Yuusuke was grinning. "Not even  
Randou tried to turn me into a chicken."

"Bonehead." Genkai gave Yuusuke a swift kick. "I told you, that  
part was my idea."

Everyone seemed more or less back to normal, and a great fondness  
for them welled in her. But Shayla Kidd could hardly spare them  
a glance. Her gaze was riveted on him. On Hiei. "I thought you  
were dead," she whispered.

Hiei shook his head. "You won't get rid of me so easily."

"I knew the Shrimpboat was alive," said Kuwabara, triumphantly.  
"Didn't I tell you so?"

"I thought he was alive too," snickered Yuusuke. "I just figured  
he ran off to avoid his responsibilities."

"Nice of you to say that," griped Hiei.

"Out!" bellowed Smith-sensei, pointing dramatically at the door.

"Take care of yourself, girl," said Genkai, gathering the boys to  
go. But Kurama, last in line, paused at the door to look back.

"I'm glad you're all right," he said. "Both of you."

"Now!" The doctor ushered Kurama out and closed the door with a  
decisive bang.

And they were alone. She and Hiei.

Shayla Kidd let her eyes drift shut for a few moments, just  
feeling his weight on the bed, breathing in his scent.

Then she opened her eyes. Her hands. The way they had looked  
after the snakes got her. The hands of a crone. But she could  
not focus on them.

Hiei caught her hands between his. "It's all right," he said.  
"You went back to normal when the Serpent was destroyed. So did  
that girl, more or less." He released her hands to reach into a  
pocket and fumble out a folded square of paper. "From that  
girl---for you."

Shayla smoothed the paper. It was some kind of official vellum  
stationery, bearing an elaborate chop mark. Blinking, squinting,  
she scanned the contents, then glanced back at Hiei. "So it  
wasn't a dream."

He gave her a puzzled glance. "What wasn't?"

"This letter. The battle. I already know what happened, and I  
already know what this letter says. Except for this part---"

She repeated aloud what was scrawled on the very bottom:

'PS: That Koenma guy is cuuuute:) -- Luv, Debbie.'

She folded the paper. "I swear, I'm sending Ronni straight to a  
convent."

"It may yet be so," said Hiei. "As for knowing what was in the  
letter, and the battle's outcome, I don't know how it is  
possible. Unless you were seeing the battle as it happened,  
through my Jagan."

Shayla Kidd stared at her demon, and for one moment, her vision  
cleared. She had indeed looked upon the Jagan once, if only from  
an angle. Could it be that at that time, its power had touched  
her in some way? "Stranger things have happened," she informed  
him, struggling to a half-sitting position, with Hiei tracking  
her every move.

Then she scowled. "Hold it---I remember you telling me on the  
plane that the Jagan can see through things."

Hiei nodded, his gaze intent upon her.

Crossing her arms over her chest, drawing her knees up and  
huddling under his mantle, she sputtered, "A-are you looking at  
my underwear?"

"No."

"Well, good," she huffed.

"You're in a hospital gown," Hiei purred. "You're not wearing  
any underwear."

0-0-0-0-0

It was one day later. A day that made a great deal of  
difference, thought Hiei, sitting exhausted but alive at the foot  
of his firebird's bed.

Demons had remarkable recuperative powers, but he was not  
indestructible. He had been slashed and poisoned and burnt to a  
crisp, deafened and blinded by The Sword of the Archangel, and as  
for Shay-san, well. Human females proved to be tougher than he'd  
imagined. The baby, being half-demon, had hung on, where a human  
baby might not.

Maybe it was all those hot peppers the mother consumed.

But Hiei wished they were alone. EVERYONE was there, crowded  
around the bed: Kuwabara, grinning like an idiot who had found  
his village at last, Yuusuke cheerful and ready for the next  
slugfest, a smug Kurama, inscrutable Genkai, Smith-sensei, even a  
gloating Father Brian.

His firebird was now looking much better. Hiei himself, having  
suffered Kurama to fuss over him, felt good enough to complain  
about the loss of yet another katana, and the poor quality of its  
replacement.

"Back then, at the temple," Shay-san addressed Genkai. "You  
left. Where did you go?"

The old reiki master looked as if she would kill for a cigarette;  
Smith-sensei gave her a look that said he would kill if she lit  
one.

"I got suspicious," Genkai informed them, Hiei translating for  
Father Brian's benefit. "Went to find Koenma and bring him back,  
and it took me a while---they left the B-team minding the store."

"Let me guess," snorted Yuusuke. "Hinageshi and two retarded  
oni?"

Genkai nodded. "By the time I found Koenma it was all over with  
you idiots."

Reluctantly, Hiei had to agree with Genkai. "The idiot is me."

"Hold it." Kuwabara held up a big paw. "Let me mark this day on  
my calendar."

Shay-san, for once, was looking lost. Hiei didn't blame  
her---the answer was well and truly idiotic. "What Koenma wanted  
me to steal," he explained, embarrassed. "It wasn't 'bells,'  
like big iron things you hit with sticks. It was 'belles.'  
Girls."

Koenma, it turned out, had been informed that White Sands Serpent  
had a desert hideout, and had wanted those girls moved to  
safety---especially the one with the rare ki-trace.

He glanced at his firebird, then the others. "I completed the  
mission after all. Got the first one right away. Picked up the  
other in Makai."

"Still." Slitting his eyes, Kurama spoke in silken tones. "If  
you had been a bit more intelligent in your preparations, you  
might have saved yourself the trouble, and secured both 'belles'  
at once."

Shay-san looked as though she would like to laugh if only her  
ribs didn't hurt so much.

"We are not out of the woods yet." Hiei continued speaking  
English, in deference to Father Brian, who stood at the head of  
the bed like a bulldog guarding a nursery. In a sense, he was.  
"If Koenma chooses, he can have me sent back to Makai, or jailed  
in Spirit World, or worse."

"Don't you worry about that, son," said the fierce little priest.  
"I told you I can handle Koenma."

That was when Koenma himself, in Ningenkai form, strode in: a  
rangy youth with brown hair and amber eyes, "Jr." stamped on his  
forehead, and the ever-present pacifier in his mouth.

"Oops!" he trilled, in that light, scratchy voice. "My bad on  
the belles thing. But you know what it's like, packing for  
vacation!"

"No." Kurama folded his arms. "Do tell us."

"Oh, this, that, the other." Pacifier working furiously, Koenma  
stopped in front of the bed, regarding Hiei.

And Hiei stared back: not glaring, not challenging, but not  
deferring either. Eye to eye, his gaze empty of everything  
except waiting for Koenma to make the first move, because in  
truth, he was too exhausted to do otherwise.

"Here." Koenma tossed a small rectangle of flat plastic---the  
size and shape of a credit card---onto the bed. Hiei picked it  
up, examined it, then quickly displayed it for the benefit of the  
priest.

Father Brian nodded, grinning. "That's your 'Green Card,' so to  
speak."

"My---" Hiei clicked his jaws shut as Father Brian explained its  
significance. The short of it was, Hiei would get to remain in  
the human plane with his firebird.

"I told you," continued Father Brian, looking altogether too  
pleased with himself, as if he had been the one to slay the  
Serpent. "You work for Rome now." He winked at Hiei. Hiei's  
eye twitched.

Well, Hiei reasoned: He did teach me that attack. Sword of the  
Archangel. Could come in handy now and then.

("Not one person in a thousand can see the light of the Holy  
Eucharist," Father Brian had been at great pains to inform him.  
"Not one demon in ten thousand is unscathed by Holy Water. You,  
my little pissant, may be the only creature on the planet who can  
channel them as a weapon.")

Unlike with the Kokuryuuha, Hiei experienced only a brief loss of  
consciousness from the new attack, but was blinded and deafened  
for a good long time. He imagined that being caught inside a  
miniscule nuclear blast would feel somewhat similar.

Koenma finished exchanging pleasantries with Shay-san, then  
Father Brian slung an arm around him. "Come along, lad," urged  
the priest, herding Koenma toward the door. Y'know, your agenda  
and Rome's aren't necessarily at odds. Like a couple o' rivers.  
Where the two run together, we can do a little fishing."

Genkai coughed. "Time for the grownups to leave." She followed  
Koenma and Father Brian out. But the rest of Team Urameshi gave  
no indication of following.

"Must be galling for you, stuck with someone like me." Hiei  
yawned, hoping the others would catch the hint and leave. "Think  
of my poor idiot beloved." He jiggled a foot against hers. "To  
death and beyond. Even worse."

"Get a room, you two." Shaking his head, Kurama hauled the other  
boys out the door and closed it behind him.

"Alone at last," said Hiei, keeping one suspicious eye on the  
door.

"For the moment," Shay-san agreed.

Hiei glanced out the window. Warm sun, blue sky. Still  
springtime. He wondered why this surprised him; it hadn't even  
been three weeks since he'd gone to America.

A lifetime away.

But there was one crucial point that needed clearing up before  
Hiei could fully relax. He studied his firebird. She gave a  
long sigh, a resettling on the pillows. She was still recovering  
and he still had to be careful with her.

"At the end of the Dark Tournament," he began, "the winners were  
granted any wish. Let's say this was your personal Dark  
Tournament. What would you wish for?"

"A month of no Genkai trying to kill me. A month alone."

"Am I invited?"

"Naturally."

"Too bad we have no place to do it in."

"We do." She gave him a sidelong glint. "There are more people  
around than at Genkai's, but the doors have locks."

"Are you sorry you didn't get a chance to see your friend?"

His firebird lowered her head. "It's not forever."

Ronni. The other missing 'temple belle.' Father Brian, Genkai,  
and Koenma had decided it was best for Ronni to spend some time  
with people of Holy Orders. Then she would return home to live  
on the family ranch in Arizona.

Hiei left it to them to concoct some kind of cover story. He was  
sick of lies. As for the White Sands Serpent Shrine, someone  
else could burn it to the ground.

"Woman." Still wincing in pain, he gathered her up. She blinked  
at him, the glimmer in her gumdrop eyes like rain on hard slate.

"Back then." Hiei paused; she waited for him to continue.

He was about to ask, Back then, you said I wasn't your first.  
Did you mean your father's transgression? Or other boys? How  
many others? Who were they?

He released a breath, felt her apprehension press against him,  
felt her sorrow and regret and more.

And took his doubts and his questions, and hurled them far, far  
away. It didn't matter. Nothing about her past mattered to him  
now. But---

(Women. Stupid creatures. They needed telling. It wasn't  
enough that you gave them your body and soul and a baby and a  
ring. Stupid creatures needed it spelled out for them.)

"Back then," he continued. "What the Serpent said about you."

She turned away, but he put a hand under her chin, forcing her  
her eyes to meet his. "It was another lie."

She was shaking, as if struck by chills, her face twisted in  
pain. "I know your heart is pure," he continued. "Only a pure  
heart could have captured mine."

The gumdrop eyes were swimming now. He could sense that, inside  
her, a struggle of titanic proportions was taking place, equal to  
his battle against The Serpent, and whether she won or lost he  
could not say. But she gave a little gulp, then dropped her head  
to his shoulder, releasing tears at last, clutching at his arms  
as though she were falling from a cliff.

Sore as he was, he let her; it was the first time he had ever  
seen her weep.

-30-

(To be concluded: All things come to an end, but will time heal  
all wounds?)


	28. IB C 28: Thicker Than Water

Title: Idiot Beloved Ch. 28: Thicker Than Water  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor, and Beyond  
Rating: T

Please read Disclaimer in Chap. 1!

Summary: They deserve a break, but one final key remains to be  
turned.

A/N: Once again, thanks to Hawk-sensei for his invaluable help,  
and thanks to everyone who's been reading and enjoying this. Please review.  
Your remarks truly make my day!

Idiot Beloved Ch 28: Thicker Than Water  
by  
Kenshin

You're not so tough, Shayla Kidd, she told herself.

Although neither she nor Hiei had sustained any permanent damage  
battling White Sands Serpent, their recovery would take a while,  
and Shayla did not want it taking place at Genkai's temple. Nor  
would they have a month, but a mere ten days.

"Just long enough to shake off jet lag," Hiei grumbled.

None of them were ever able to pinpoint whether Shayla's ribs had  
shattered from the coils of the white snake, from impact with the  
tree, or the force of her spell.

"So that's what you meant by somewhere that has locks on the  
doors," said Hiei, upon learning where they were headed. And she  
had at last been able to persuade him to take the JAL flight to  
California, leaving his katana in the luggage.

("Baka ningen. Don't they realize they are safer with me and my  
sword than without?"

"I know," she soothed, "But I imagine if there's trouble you'll  
come up with something.")

At the Tokyo airport, Hiei stood calm, their bags slung  
carelessly over one shoulder. In his black mantle and white  
scarf he looked like royalty.

She slept on the flight, glad that this was not the little  
Cessna, that no one was chasing them, that they would be able to  
land in a normal way and take a normal cab to the estate.  
However, they were not going simply for some R-and-R, but for one  
key piece of unfinished business.

Located near Los Altos Hills, the Kidd estate in Palo Alto is  
modeled after the Normandy style of chateau. Similar manor  
houses even more famous can be seen on Long Island's Gold Coast,  
most notably Oheka, the Otto Kahn estate (now a luxury hotel and  
catering hall), which encompasses 443 acres, and is the second-  
largest private residence ever built in America.

The Kidd estate is a mere ten acres.

The cab took them up the long drive, past the lake, past the  
tennis courts and main pool and outbuildings and gardens, Shayla  
watching Hiei carefully for his reaction.

All he said was, "Ch."

Inside the entrance hall, Hiei greeted her family with an  
exquisite, almost chivalrous courtesy. Paul and Carmel, both in  
their 50s, both fit and trim, had learned some truly dreadful  
Japanese for the occasion, and literally went limp with relief  
when Hiei answered them in English.

"Oh, gracious," said the gorgeous Carmel, whose mahogany hair  
matched her eyes. "Just listen to you! And here we burned the  
midnight oil courtesy of Peter."

"Who owns Kouhaku," explained Paul. Her uncle had dressed for  
the occasion in his oldest corduroy jacket, the elbow patches  
repaired many times. "That's a Japanese restaurant. He's been  
here in America for about a decade, studying hard to speak half  
as well as you."

"I am a fast learner," Hiei informed them. Shayla had to bite  
down on a knuckle.

"The girls will be disappointed," Aunt Carmel said, in her Belle-  
of-N'awlins drawl. "They scraped up some Japanese fo' this  
occasion as well."

"Amazing how they can apply themselves when they're properly  
motivated," added Uncle Paul. He and Carmel then ushered them  
into the vast, cool expanse of the living room, where a neatly-  
uniformed maid rolled in a cart of refreshments.

The whole troop was there, in fact: cousins Mary, Kathleen, and  
Francie were huddled in the overstuffed chairs, uttering semi-  
Japanese greetings and casting suspicious glances their way.

None of the three girls had inherited their mother's beauty,  
taking more after the affable, blunt-featured Paul, but all three  
were distinctive creatures: Mary, with several new tattoos and a  
fresh coat of black nail polish, eschewing food and drink;  
Kathleen, with a new multicolored updo, and a loaded plate;  
finally Fran, forever quitting nicotine, grimly clenching an  
unlit cigarette between her teeth.

The three cousins insisted on mangled Japanese, even when Hiei  
had demonstrated his fluidity with their native language.

Francie, the eldest, loudly and slowly demanded of Hiei if he  
"suki daioh sushi." Hiei responded patiently in English that he  
did, indeed, enjoy various kinds of 'big sushi.'

Shayla, balancing a large iced tea and a plate of canapes, did  
not dare glance at him for fear of losing it on the spot.

"How was the flight, sugar?" Carmel spoke in fits and starts,  
nibbling on a Brie-slathered toast point.

"Better than the one to Japan," said Hiei, while Shayla had to  
bite down hard, this time on her cocktail napkin.

"You're looking very good, Sweetie," said Uncle Paul, winking at  
her over his miniature quiche Lorraine.

Shayla grinned at her uncle. "And you're just as I remember."  
Her aunt and uncle changed little over the years; compact people  
with a knack for not showing their age. She supposed that was a  
hopeful omen.

"Honestly, Shay, is this even fair?" Kath shot the question  
across Hiei's bow as if he wasn't there. "I didn't even know you  
were engaged." She gave an agitated shake of her head; her  
carefully-tended 'do tumbled around her shoulders.

Hiei turned to Kath, favoring her with one of his half-smiles.  
"It was short. Brief, brutal, but it got the job done."

"I would say not so much brutal as intense," added Shay, and  
Kathleen blinked at each of them in turn.

Then Uncle Paul bit his own cocktail napkin, and Aunt Carmel  
jumped up and trilled that the couple had just endured a long  
flight, and could she show them to their rooms?

She could.

On the way, Carmel made her usual newcomer-to-the-Kidd-compound  
jokes about needing a map and compass to get around, and pointed  
out where the phones were on every floor, and how to ring for  
help in case they should get lost.

"I don't get lost," said Hiei.

Carmel stopped, gave him one of her cool, measuring stares. "I  
b'lieve you," she said. "I don't think you eva get lost,  
anywhere." She threw open the door to their room. "Dinner's at  
eight," she said, as Hiei ushered Shayla into the room.

"We don't dress unless it's a big deal," Carmel went on. "An'  
while meetin' the new fam'ly' member's a very big deal indeed,  
y'all are likely to be tired. Fact, if you're too tired, just  
ring fo' room service." And then she left.

Hiei inspected the sitting room, bedroom and bath. By his very  
stillness, Shay knew he was pleased. Then he turned to her, his  
expression carefully neutral.

"Don't dress for dinner? Naked dining is some other crazy gaijin  
custom you haven't warned me about?"

"Baka. It means informal. No gowns or tux."

"Tux?"

"You don't have one. Never mind."

"Doors with locks," he said. "I approve." And reached for her.

0-0-0-0-0

As vacations go, this one was sheer bliss, having nothing to do  
but eat and sleep and talk with the family, and take the  
occasional stroll.

Walking the flagstone path around the lake on their third day,  
Hiei gravely informed her that he had robbed castles smaller than  
this.

It was all right. She had been wondering about his response to  
sweltering luxury. He was impressed but not cowed, comfortable  
but not covetous.

"Your English is getting better," she informed him. "I don't  
know how I'll be able to make fun of you now."

"And your Japanese is improving," he replied. "I can almost  
understand you."

At that moment, such a tidal wave of love and gratitude and sheer  
desire swept her, that she wanted to fall to her knees and cover  
his hands with kisses.

Instead, she edged to the lake, tossing a handful of stale bread  
onto its placid bronze surface. "You know, my uncle Paul's a  
hero. Not your type of course, but---"

"Keh. I am no hero. Just someone who wields a sword."

She watched the birds come quacking and vee-ing over the water to  
feed. The pretty little wood ducks, who paddled up first, were  
soon pushed aside by the larger and more voracious trumpeter  
swans. "My uncle is, though. For not turning out like my  
father. For becoming a decent, hard-working, funny man and not a  
drunk like his father before him. My Grandfather was a mean old  
man. He's the one who stuck me away in the convent school after  
my parents were---well. Turned out to be the best thing for me.  
That's where I met Ronni. I really didn't come to know Paul and  
Carmel until I was, oh, 12 or so. And I think Aunt Carmel had a  
lot to do with the way my uncle is now."

"The name Carmel," Hiei said, "means Blessed Garden."

She was quiet for a long time after that. Hiei could still  
astonish her.

As for the way her family reacted to him... at first she could  
sense they were indeed impressed, if with nothing else than  
Hiei's look and bearing.

However, it was when she was buttering her demon's toast on the  
fifth morning that she sensed a slight shift in position. The  
way the cousins exchanged their not-so-subtle covert glances, and  
then began a noisy conversation among themselves about oppressed  
womanhood.

She held it at arm's length. Hiei, on the other hand, played it  
for all it was worth, calling her stupid at every opportunity,  
observing her cousins' reactions with liquid, amused eyes.

Uncle Paul and Aunt Carmel continued to be visibly entranced with  
their new relative. Indeed, she noticed Hiei spending a lot of  
time with Paul. Maybe Paul liked swords. Maybe Hiei was  
interested in contract law. Or had a need to communicate with an  
older man who wasn't trying to kill him.

It was mostly the Macbeth Trio, as Shayla occasionally called her  
cousins, who seemed to have a problem.

They would follow Hiei at a distance, as if they were a row of  
inept ducklings playing a game of International Spy, peering  
around corners, fleeing whenever he shot a glance behind him.

At the end of the first week, long after dinner, Hiei and Shayla  
both lounged in the room, she on the bed, Hiei in the fireside  
chair. Hiei was leafing through the Architectural Digest piece  
on the Kidd estate, and Shayla was beginning to want---

She left the bed to kneel at his feet. "Come down with me," she  
wheedled, tugging on his sleeve.

He put the magazine down and yawned. "Why?"

"Cover me while I raid the fridge."

"You have cravings now?" The garnet eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
"For real?"

She nodded. "For real."

He brightened considerably. "Come then. I'll protect you from  
the Three Witches."

They'd fallen back easily enough into their old style of playful  
banter---as if the nighmarish battle had never taken place. But  
some things had changed forever. Life was like that.

Down in the cream-and-sage-toned kitchen, Shayla dove into the  
restaurant-sized fridge. Hiei scoured the multitude of cabinets  
for Tabasco sauce, then poured some into a shot glass for her  
while she perched on a stool at the vast breakfast bar, gnawing a  
finger of ginger.

"Ginger and hot sauce?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Figures," she said. "It's your little demon brat. Demanding I  
eat what its sire eats."

"Ch," he said, helping himself to some of the ginger. "And I  
thought you would want chocolate."

"Just stop me if you ever catch me eating raw liver."

"Or something with tentacles."

"Some day, Dragon Boy, I swear, I'm going to make you sit through  
Rosemary's Baby."

"Which is?"

"A movie. You'll like it," she teased. "It's about you."

"I've seen it," he said calmly. She stared in shock. "It was  
overrated," he continued.

They sat side by side in the dark, quiet and companionable, and  
for a while the only sound was her, gulping hot sauce, crunching  
ginger.

Then the lights flicked on. In a flash, Hiei was between her and  
the intruders. A half-breath later, she saw him relax.

Swell, she thought. Macbeth's Trio.

Little Mary with her tattoos frankly staring at Hiei, Kathleen,  
eyeing Shay with suspicion, eldest Francie, unlit cigarette  
dangling from her lip, staring at them both.

Hiei bowed to them. He used the Japanese word for cousins  
because their names gave him trouble. "We are being impolite,"  
he told them.

"Uhhh, no," said Mary, uncertainly. "Not at all."

"Well," said Francie. "Isn't this pleasant?"

"All of us together like this," added Kath.

Hiei cut his gaze toward Shay's. "Don't dawdle, onna." Without  
another word, he left the kitchen.

The Macbeth Trio watched him go. Then they swiveled their heads  
around to glare at her, assembling at the bar in a row.

Here it comes, Shay thought: the obligatory we're-doing-this-for-  
your-own-good speech. Heere's the windup ...

"He calls you stupid woman," began Kath.

And theere's the pitch, Shay concluded silently.

"We looked it up," added Mary. "In a dictionary."

"In case you didn't realize," said Francie.

"How thoughtful of you," Shay responded.

Kath shook her head. "How can you stand it?"

"It's his sense of humor," said Shay. "If you had one, you might  
appreciate it."

"Niice," drawled Francie. "So he calls you 'stupid woman.' What  
do you call him?"

"My Lord Husband, of course."

"You never said what he does for a living," Kath chided.

"That's right," said Shay. "I didn't." Do I tell them, former  
assassin and thief, and now Rome's Sword? Naaaah. "Hiei's...  
between positions."

"I thought so. He married you for your money."

"Thanks for the compliment," Shayla said drily. "He found me in  
a spartan temple in the middle of nowhere---didn't even hear  
about the estate until well after." It seemed best not to inform  
them that they could all bite her---not even in Japanese.

Mary said, "I bet he makes you walk two steps behind him."

"Actually, I walk in front. He says he likes the view."

Kath snorted. "Little men with their Napoleon complexes."

"I bet he leaves the toilet seat up," added Francie, who had  
jettisoned men for less.

"Japanese wives are very submissive," Shayla said, sorely tempted  
to add: Demon wives even more so.

"I bet he expects you to act like a geisha." said Mary.

"It's true," Shayla admitted. "He even threatened to sell me off  
a while back."

"See?" Kath's eyes glinted in unholy glee. "I was right. You  
need to ditch him."

"Can't do that, even if I wanted to." Shay was reluctant to  
mention the little hanyou just yet; there was still ample time to  
tell them, with her not even a month along. "What God has put  
together, and all that."

Francie sucked on her unlit cigarette. "You shouldn't let that  
stop you."

"Never stopped you, Francie." She took a breath, ashamed of her  
smart mouth. She loved them; blood was thicker than water. It  
was just that sometimes---she couldn't stand them. Lowering her  
head, she murmured, "Sorry. That was unworthy of me."

But Francie recovered quickly. "He can't keep you under his  
thumb forever."

Hiei, leaping from the rock to fling El Chupacabra to the ground.  
Racing time to get her back to the temple after its attack so she  
would survive. Snatching her away from the charge of the bull.  
Hurling himself at the Serpent. Always keeping his sword between  
her and danger.

She lifted her head. "Hiei can keep me wherever he sees fit."

And rose, leaving the remains of the ginger and Tabasco for them  
to figure out.

Back in the room, the window was open; a lake-scented breeze  
bannered the curtains. "You can come down now, Three-Eyes," she  
said.

In a single flick, he was beside her.

She knew he had been standing on the roof, using the Jagan to  
perform another perimeter sweep, his nightly habit since their  
arrival. "Any danger?"

The garnet eyes glinted. "Only from that trio."

"You're kinder to them than they deserve."

"The oldest one is--?"

"Francie."

"Married once? A shame it didn't stick. And the middle one, the  
one with striped hair?"

"Kathleen."

"Yes. I still have trouble pronouncing. That one is your age.  
Too young to be so bitter. And the little girl?"

"That one is your age, Jaganshi."

"She's a child. All eyes and piercings and tatoos. Carmel needs  
to tell her 'no'."

"Carmel does. Mary doesn't listen. None of them do."

He gave a little snort. "Poor girls. They just want me, that's  
all."

"If there's one thing I can always count on in this life it's the  
size of your ego."

"Ch. They probably never laid eyes on a real man before."

"You are priceless."

"Of course. Now get into bed, woman."

0-0-0-0-0

On the next to the last day of their vacation, Shayla and Hiei  
unlocked the last key.

A coastal city about 85 miles west-northwest of Los Angeles,  
graced with a Mediterranean climate and the Santa Ynez mountains  
for a backdrop, Santa Barbara is home to numerous interesting  
animal and plant species.

From ladybug to bobcat, the fauna also includes the rarely-seen  
California legless lizard, which looks like a snake but isn't.  
California lilacs turn the foothills dusty white in spring, and  
bay laurel scents the air.

With the weather blazing hot as summer, Shayla and Hiei took a  
long limo ride via Highway 101 to what may be the oldest  
surviving building in the city: Old Mission Santa Barbara.

Founded by the Franciscan Orders, December 4, 1786, it is known  
as "Queen of the Missions," and with mountains in the distance, a  
rose garden across the street, and broad green lawns under sky of  
purest turquoise, the Mission did indeed look like a sanctuary  
for troubled souls.

The driver let them off near a private entrance, and waited.

Shayla noted the pale, almost-white brick of the chapel, the  
paths made of red stone set in concrete, and the rounded red  
tiles of the roof. More red and white, with Hiei beside her  
supplying the black, albeit in a lightweight, long-sleeved shirt  
that covered up the ward on his Dragon arm.

They had come to see demonologist Thomas McNeil---and Ronni.

Helen and Robert Spencer, Ronni's parents, had been profusely  
grateful to Hiei for helping 'recover' their daughter from her  
'kidnaper,' and somewhat relieved to hear Ronni would be staying  
with the Franciscans for a while.

Shayla and Hiei strolled around to the mountain side of the  
Mission over bi-colored pathways, their progress shaded by shaggy  
palm trees and twisty old California walnuts. The monk who met  
them at the back entrance was a merry little soul dressed in blue  
jeans and chambray shirts, and who worked on the latest model  
computer in his small but comfortable room.

Shayla exchanged a long hug with Uncle Brother Thomas, and then  
he held her at arm's length to study her while she introduced  
Hiei.

"This is your Uncle the Brother?" Hiei hissed in Shayla's ear.  
She nodded.

"Can't be," Hiei retorted. "Looks just like a normal guy."

"And you look just like a normal boy," said Uncle Thomas,  
cracking a wide grin. "Well, apart from that power signature  
about you---tightly bound, and two of them if I'm not mistaken!  
When I heard my poor little Shayla Giles had married a demon!  
But ah, me, now that I see you..."

"Come on," snorted Shayla. "Did you really think I'd fall for  
some three-eyed monster?"

She was rewarded by the sound of Hiei, choking.

"How is Ronni?" she asked.

"You're about to see for yourself." Uncle Thomas led them to an  
outbuilding, walking them past a short stretch of lawn, then  
inside through stucco halls.

She clutched at Hiei's hand. Back in Japan, she had stayed in  
the hospital long enough to debrief Yuusuke and the others on the  
Hiei they had known before she came onto the scene.

Their testimonies had stunned her to silence.

That Hiei was allowing her to maintain a deathgrip on his hand  
was an indication of how far he'd come.

And you? she asked herself. How far have you come?

The dim corridor felt cold. Eagerness battled a rising sense of  
dread. What had The Serpent left of the funny, ditzy, and  
ultimately big-hearted girl who was her closest friend?

They stopped now, a few feet from an opened door at the end of  
the corridor. "In there," Thomas said.

She cast him a desperate look, then turned one on Hiei.

"Go on ahead." Uncle Brother Thomas nodded in encouragement.  
"Hiei and I will follow in a bit."

Shayla sucked in a breath, still wary of her sore ribs. She  
walked into the room, her espadrilles whispering against the red  
tile floor, then stopped.

It was a rectangular space of not-quite-spartan arrangement, with  
religious paintings on the walls, and a placque that told of the  
Mission's history in a prominent spot. Opposite the door, a bank  
of open windows faced the courtyard, which was lush with bay  
laurel, orange and pine trees; the little star-shaped wildflower  
known as canyon fairy crowded around well-tended brick walkways.

Ronni Spencer sat at a scrubbed pine table by an open window,  
gazing outside, a box of tissues at her elbow. She had her long  
chestnut mane clipped into a twist low on the back of her head,  
and she looked---not exactly old---but tired.

Shayla cleared her throat. "Ronni."

The girl glanced her way, but did not rise. An awkward silence  
followed, while Ronni turned back to the windows, and the  
distance of the room stood between them.

"Hey, Debbie," Shayla whispered.

"Hey, Debbie," Ronni echoed, and then she bolted from the chair  
and came at Shayla in a rush.

After the initial breathless, tearful hug, they sat facing one  
another, fumbling for tissues, complaining about their eye make-  
up. Shayla studied Ronni as her uncle had studied her.

There were new lines decorating the corners of Ronni's eyes,  
lines that no 22-year-old should have, and her hands looked sere  
and thin.

Shayla glanced down at her own smooth hands---the hands that  
returned to normal the instant Hiei destroyed The Serpent, and  
she knew it was another gulf between herself and this girl who  
had suffered so much.

"At least I'm alive," sighed Ronni. "By all rights, I shouldn't  
be. I never thanked that demon of yours. Maybe I waited too  
long after John sacrificed himself." Ronni turned her gaze to  
the window again, her throat working. "John. He never even knew  
my name."

Outside, a black-capped chickadee flapped onto an orange branch,  
scolding dee-dee-dee, then sprang away with a speed that would  
have done credit to Hiei. A sultry breeze carried the resin  
scent of pine into the room.

Ronnie went on. "In The Serpent's house. Those poison snake-  
things wrapped around Hiei, and he was a goner, and so was I.  
Except he exploded out of them, I don't know how, and cut The  
Serpent again and grabbed me and smashed through a window, and  
then we were outside, under that red sky---"

"I know."

"Hiei---no matter what The Serpent did to him, Hiei kept going.  
That Sword of The Archangel attack. Ever try to cover both your  
eyes and ears? I settled for an eye and an ear.

"And so I saw it. I don't think I was supposed to, but I did. I  
was half-blind and all deaf, and I know he was a lot closer to  
the hit, but he literally dragged me through that break in the  
barrier." Ronni shook her head in amazement. "He just never let  
anything stop him."

"That's him all right."

"When I was with---that white-eyed demon," began Ronni, "I felt  
filthy. Filthy in a way I never had before."

"It's what he wanted. To make you feel that way. But you beat  
him."

"No. I didn't. It was---"

Hiei and Uncle Thomas came in and conversation halted. The two  
men pretended to be absorbed in the placque proclaiming the  
history of the Mission.

"Here's your chance," said Shayla.

"I'll be going back home." Ronni slowly shredded a tissue in her  
too-thin fingers. "They could use an extra ranch hand."

"Just watch out for those bulls," quipped Shayla.

Her attempt to make Ronni laugh fell flat. "The nuns have been  
very kind to me," Ronni continued. "And your uncle the  
Brother..." She nodded in Thomas' direction--- "He's been  
debriefing me about you-know-who for his next volume."

"Yes," said Uncle Thomas, jerking a thumb at Hiei. "And I can  
see I'll have to write a whole book about this boy."

Hiei snorted. "One lunatic man of the cloth turning me inside  
out is more than enough."

"Ahh, Father Brian McCormick." Uncle Brother Thomas beamed.  
"That old softie! He's probably much too easy on you."

Hiei's eyebrow twitched.

"Take your time about my book, kid," said Thomas. "No rush."

"Hiei." Ronni stood, a bit shakily. "I never got the chance to  
thank you."

Shayla sensed Hiei stiffen up. He had borne the American-style  
hugs and snoggings from her family well, but Shayla feared Ronni  
would lunge at him.

Then, with dignity befitting an empress, Ronni inclined her head.  
"I owe you my life."

"No thanks are necessary," Hiei replied. "Your own strength  
brought you far. I just took you the last couple of steps."

Hiei and Uncle Thomas resumed talking in the corner. Leaning in  
to Shayla, Ronnie whispered: "I was just kidding about Koenma  
being cute. Sort of." Then she winked.

They said their farewells. Hiei and Uncle Thomas preceded her  
from the room.

With every victory comes a loss.

Her dearest friend had been rescued, and was safe---and they  
would live half a world apart.

Shayla Kidd walked to the end of the hall, then turned, sketched  
a salute in the air. "Good-bye, Debbie," she said.

On the ride back to the Kidd estate, Hiei confided to her that he  
had expected to see "some guy in a cell with sackcloth, ashes and  
a quill pen," and not the busy, modern, overworked Brother he had  
actually met.

"He wasn't even wearing robes," Hiei complained.

"America," Shayla retorted. "Just full of surprises."

0-0-0-0-0

The orphan and the demon had rested, and said things to one  
another that needed saying, but even the best of vacations must  
come to an end.

Uncle Paul and Aunt Carmel were genuinely regretful to see them  
go. The Macbeth Trio were stiff in their leavetaking, except  
that little Mary kept darting glances at Hiei.

Shayla was beginning to long for the open hostility of Genkai and  
Kurama. At least underneath that lurked something solid,  
something she could rely on.

When the plane was in the air, Hiei said to her, "So that is your  
family."

"And to think you let them live."

"They're okay. Next visit, the girls too will fall for me."

"I believe you. You're relentless."

Shayla was looking forward to a nice long sleep on the flight  
home. Home. She already thought of Japan in that way.

But Hiei wanted to talk, and, rarity that it was, she paid  
attention.

"Your uncle Paul," he began. "I like that one. However, I  
cannot keep taking money from him. Since I gave up stealing I  
will have to find some way to make a living."

She nodded. An idea or two had occurred to her, but she kept  
them to herself, easing her head onto his shoulder, listening to  
his heavy, dangerous purr.

"Once I said I know everything about you---but it's obvious this  
is not true. I trust you'll fill me in."

"Just try and shut me up," she assured him.

"I..." He took the kind of deep breath she had come to recognize  
as Hiei, preparing himself for a difficult speech. "This was no  
accident, meeting you. I hated the human world. But that girl,  
she resisted The Serpent. And she has no powers, not like  
yours."

She lifted herself away from the warmth and safety of his  
shoulder. Just beyond the wing of the plane, the clouds were  
tinged with orange. It would be dark soon. The stars would come  
out. "Yeah. She's something, that one."

"People of weakness, people of no powers, getting by on who knows  
what. People with families. You heard about my past from The  
Serpent. All true. But I'm going to be a good father. I don't  
know how but I will find a way."

"Of that, I have no doubt whatever." As for herself, Shayla Kidd  
had learned that, for a supposed person of faith, she was  
shockingly faithless. No belief when Hiei told her she was with  
child, no belief that he would return to her. Painful, but true.  
She would have to struggle against it.

Hiei looked out at the darkening sky. "Wonder what sort of  
powers our offspring will have?"

"I wonder if his mother is worthy of him."

"Baka onna. She. With fire-color hair."

"Baka youkai. He. Looking just like you."

The corners of his mouth twitched up. "Both."

She yawned, settled back into his shoulder. Two seconds later  
she jerked upright in a double-take worthy of a TV comic.  
Goggling at him, she sputtered. "Wait, b-both? Did I hear you  
say---?"

"Both. As in boy and girl." Reaching into his pocket, Hiei drew  
something out, then pressed it into her palm.

Two perfect moonstones.

They had been mounted with silver, and bound on strong yet  
delicate chain. She felt their cool, insignificant weight, and  
understood their priceless origin. Closing her fingers around  
them, she again goggled at him in utter shock.

He began to laugh. "Didn't I mention? Twins run in my family."

-30-

(Next: The Coda--then on to the IB sequel, Firebird Sweet!)


	29. Idiot Beloved: Coda

(Or, It's All Over But The Shouting)

Title: Idiot Beloved: Coda  
Author: JaganshiKenshin  
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor, and Beyond  
Rating: T  
Summary: Is this truly the end?

Please read Disclaimer in Chap. 1.

A/N: My heartfelt thanks to Hawk-sensei for all the best lines!  
This Coda is pure candy, but I'd still appreciate your reviews.  
And thanks to everyone who stuck with this to the end, especially Blu-san and Jo-chan. Your comments make my day.

One last battle remains!

Idiot Beloved: Coda  
by  
Kenshin

Wanted: Difficult loner with hidden powers seeks Irish Catholic  
girl with temper.

Objective: Tokyo Tower Observatory, Wednesday 3:30 PM.

0-0-0-0-0

They had made it to Tokyo Tower at last.

By night, this landmark of steel is a glittering jewel that  
stands guard over the city. By day, its exterior is somewhat  
less impressive, but the view from its 360-degree windows are  
spectacular, and justifiably famous.

Inside the first observation deck, Hiei stood with his back to  
the windows. Facing the elevator, he was laughing inside at the  
antics of his friends.

Who were struggling to move a tiny gaijin where she didn't want  
to be moved.

A clear afternoon, the air so hard you could see all the way to  
Mount Fuji. Thankfully, the deck was quite empty of other  
people. Nothing and no one stood between the elevators and the  
huge windows at Hiei's back, which gave him an excellent view,  
not of the splendors of Tokyo, but the shenanigans of Kurama,  
Kuwabara, Yuusuke, and Shay-san.

Kurama was attempting to peel Shay-san off the elevator door.  
"Tokyo Tower is taller than the Eiffel Tower," he informed the  
room at large, with a generous application of his most charming  
manner. "And weighs approximately three tons less!"

Hiei's firebird scowled. "Whoopie for the tower."

"C'mon, Neesan," urged Kuwabara. "You've faced worse."

"Can't," she sniffed. "Still jet-lagged."

"I hear heights are good for jet lag," said Kurama.

"Liar," she muttered.

Urameshi chimed in. "Look!" He pointed at a window. "You can  
see Mount Fuji from here!"

"You look," Shay-san bared her teeth, clinging to the elevator.  
"I don't want to see Mount Fuji."

"But think how orange Tokyo Tower is." Hiei glinted at her,  
stopping just short of a wink.

She stamped a little foot. "I don't care if this forsaken hunk  
of misbegotten steel invented orange!"

"I remind you," Hiei said, "that you traded for this. The deal  
was, you come up here with us, I let you shave under your arms  
again."

"Louder, Hiei." Letting go of the elevator door, she skewered  
him with a glare. "There might still be one or two people in  
Hokkaido who didn't hear you."

"The world's tallest self-supporting steel structure," Kurama  
went on, as if he was a tour guide, "Tokyo Tower was completed in  
1958 by the Takenaka Corporation at a cost of two-point-eight  
billion yen."

"Only three dollars to build?" retorted Shay-san. "Not bad."

"And we're standing in the Main Observatory!" Kuwabara spoke with  
his usual braying enthusiasm. "Sugee!"

"As opposed to the Special Observatory," added Urameshi, "which  
is even higher up."

"Here's a quarter," she spat, tossing just such a coin at  
Urameshi's feet. "Go find someone who cares."

Hiei allowed his laughter to reach the air. Idiot woman. There  
she stood, one step outside the elevator, Kurama tugging her left  
wrist, Urameshi her right, with the full weight of Kuwabara  
behind her, and she was not moving.

Not a single inch.

"Forget it." Hiei shook his head. "That one is twice as stubborn  
as any mule. If she doesn't want to move, no force can make  
her."

Straightening, Kuwabara eyed Hiei from his greater height. "So  
should we let her go?"

"That's what he just said," she yowled.

Kurama grinned. "If Hiei insists." He dropped her wrist and  
held up his hands in mock-surrender. Urameshi released her as  
well. She huffed a bit, making a great show of adjusting her  
blouse and skirt, cursing under her breath.

Hiei waited for her, half an eye on something---or rather,  
someone---at the very apex of the ceiling.

Everything was in place. This was going to be a very tasty  
dish, served ice-cold, and it wasn't gazpacho.

At last, Shay-san edged over to join Hiei at the window, glanced  
out, squealed, then shut her eyes. "There. I looked. Are you  
happy?"

"I'm never happy," Hiei teased. "Haven't you learned that by  
now?"

Then he darted another glance near the ceiling, gratified to see  
that Botan was still hovering on her oar. Unseen by anyone else,  
the blue-haired ferry girl gave him a cheery thumbs-up, then  
pointed to the cargo net they had loaded up earlier.

Hiei gave her a not-yet sign.

The others joined them at the window.

"So." Urameshi placed both hands on his hips. "Lemme get it  
straight. This girl takes on Frosty The Serpent alone, and she's  
afraid of a window."

"You should have seen her play Blossom of Truth," sighed Kurama.  
"Magnificent. And now this. Quite a letdown."

"Hey, shut up!" Kuwabara shot the kitsune an indignant look.  
"Everybody's scared of something, okay?"

While the boys carped at one another, Hiei edged his firebird  
away from the spot where she stood rooted in fear. Just as  
quietly, he herded Kuwabara and Kurama, until only Urameshi was  
still in place at the window, still jeering about certain girls  
who were afraid of heights.

Then Hiei looked up, caught Botan's eye, gave her the nod.

Botan released the net.

An abundant quantity of milk boxes crashed down upon Urameshi,  
mixed with an equal number of oranges. The smell--like a  
milkshake gone horribly wrong---filled the air, along with  
Urameshi's indignant squawkings.

Payback was a thing of beauty. And this, thought Hiei, was worth  
all the trouble it took to set up.

Botan swooped to the floor in front of a startled Shay-san and  
extended both pink-kimono'd arms in delight. Bubbling at maximum  
volume, in order to be heard over Urameshi's complaints, she told  
Shay-san: "Welcome, my dear! I'm so glad to meet you at last!"

"Me, too," responded Shay-san. "And how was that vacation?"

Botan dimpled. "Oh, the usual---oni partying on the beach,  
Koenma-sama complaining about the drinks, that sort of thing."

Hiei turned to a still-yammering Urameshi and lovingly reminded  
him of the refrigerator full of milk and oranges a certain  
someone had left them back at Genkai's temple.

"Oh, that." Urameshi wiped white and orange effluvium from his  
face and hair.

"Yes, that." Hiei folded his arms.

"You look like a Creamsicle," Botan confided to Urameshi.

"A very guilt-ridden Creamsicle." Shay-san was snickering at  
last, a good sign.

"The oranges and milk were Yuusuke's idea." Kurama hid his  
laughter behind one hand. "I, of course, remained above it all."

Kuwabara stepped in front of Kurama. "And I remind you that it  
was I, Kuwabara the man, who insisted on leaving you that hunk of  
tuna."

"It was both of us," corrected Kurama.

"I really, really hate you, Hiei," sighed Urameshi.

Hiei answered Urameshi with a smile that was one part honey, nine  
parts deathglare. "Have fun cleaning up," he told the Spirit  
Detective. Turning his back, he headed for the elevator, his  
firebird in tow.

But Shay-san tugged free and scurried over to help.

"Oh, all right." Rolling his eyes, Hiei followed her. Summoning  
his earthly flames, he vaporized some of the milk boxes.

"That's the spirit." Kurama strolled back from the elevator.  
"We'll all help."

"Indeed we will!" Botan delicately plucked up an orange and  
pitched it underhand into the trash.

"Story of my life," growled Kuwabara, producing a handkerchief.  
"Always moppin' up Urameshi's messes."

And Urameshi mopped alongside him, grousing, stuffing oranges  
inside a plastic trash bag while a giggling Botan provided color  
commentary.

Shay-san knelt to help them, but Hiei pulled her back. Waving  
the others away, he set about turning trash into ash. It took no  
time at all.

"Finally!" Dusting ash from his hands, Hiei surveyed the now-  
clean Observatory. "And now..." He cut his gaze toward Shay-  
san. "Now we go eat something that has tentacles."

In reply, she wound both arms around his right biceps, tilted her  
head up, lidded those gumdrop eyes and gave him a truly wicked  
gaze.

"Make me," she purred.

-30-

Next: Please stay tuned for the Idiot Beloved sequel, Firebird  
Sweet. With a new job and a new enemy, will Hiei be able to find  
the one thing he seeks? (Hint: it's not a comb!)


End file.
